WHO   DARES  TO  DISTURB  US?" 


HENKY  THE    EIGHTH 


AND  HIS  COURT. 


AN     HISTORICAL     BOMANGE. 


BY 

L.     MUHLBACH. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  EMPRESS  JOSEPHINE,"  "  MARIE  ANTOINETTE,"  "  JOSEPH  II.  AND  HIS  COURT," 

"  FREDERICK  THE  GREAT  AND  HIS  FAMILY,"    "  BERLIN  AND  SANS-SOUCI," 

ETC.,    ETC.,    ETC. 


COMPLETE     IN     ONE     VOLUME. 


Witft 


NEW      YORK: 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

443    &    445    BROADWAY. 

1868. 


ENTERED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 

D.    APPLETON    &    CO., 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States,  for  fhe  Southern  District  of 

New  York. 


PREFACE. 


IN  the  opinion  of  the  authoress  of  this  volume,  the  province  of  the 
Historical  Komance  is  to  show  you  the  heart  of  history,  and  to  bring 
near  to  you  what  else  would  stand  so  far  off.  Although  some  of 
its  objects  may  be  to  throw  light  on  the  dark  places  of  history,  to 
group  historical  characters  according  to  their  internal  natures,  and 
to  discover  and  expose  the  motives  which  impelled  individual  person- 
ages to  the  performance  of  great  acts,  yet  others  more  important  re- 
main. One  of  these  is  the  presentation  of  history  in  a  dramatic  form 
and  with  animated  descriptions.  It  is  of  less  consequence  whether 
the  personages  actually  spoke  the  words  or  performed  the  acts 
attributed  to  them ;  but  it  is  necessary  that  those  words  and  deeds 
should  be  in  accordance  with  the  spirit  and  character  of  such  his- 
torical personages,  and  nothing  be  attributed  to  them  which  they 
could  not  have  spoken  or  done.  The  circumstances  and  events  pre- 
sented must  be  in  accordance  with  historical  tradition.  Subsequent 
investigations,  since  these  pages  were  given  to  the  press,  may  have 
modified  the  historical  aspect  of  the  character  of  Henry  VIII.,  but  it  is 
sufficient  to  say  that  these  were  unknown  at  the  time  when  the  work 
was  written,  and  the  aim  of  the  authoress  has  been  to  delineate  that 
character  as  represented  by  the  standard  English  historians. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK    I. 
TEE  WEDDING-DAY. 

CHAPTER  I.— The  Choice  of  a  Father-Con- 
fessor, 
II.— The  Queen  and    her  Bosom 

Friend,     . 

III.— King  Henry  the  Eighth 
IV.-King  by  the  Wrath  of  God, 
V.— The  Eivals, .      . 
VI.— Intercession, 
VH.— Henry  the    Eighth  and  his 

Wives, 

Vin.  —Father  and  Daughter, 
IX.— The  Next  Day, 


BOOK    II. 
THE     CHASE. 

CHAP.  I.— The  King's  Jester, 
IT. — The  Excursion, 
HI.— The  Declaration, 
TV.— Le  Roi  s'ennuie,   •  . 


BOOK    III. 
THE   QUEEWS  ROSETTE. 

CHAP.  I.— The  Queen's  Friend,    . 
II.— John  Hcywood, 


96 
103 


CHAP,  m.— The  Confidant,  . 

IV.— Gammer  Gurton's  Needle, 
V.— Lady  Jane, 
VI. — Loyola's  General,    . 
VH.— The  Prisoner,    . 
Vni.— The  Princess  Elizabeth,     . 
'    LX.— Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey, 

X.— Brother  and  Sister, 
XI.— The  Queen's  Toilet, 
XII.— The  Queen's  Rosette,  . 


BOOK   IV. 

THE  WOMEWS  WAS. 
CHAP.  I.— The  Revenge,    . 
n.— Acknowledged, 
HI. — Intrigues,  .  .  , 

IV.— The  Accusation^ 
V.— The  Banquet  of  Death, 
VI.— The  Queen,   . 
VTL— The  Illusion  Dispelled, 
VEIL— New  Intrigues, 
IX.— The  King  and  the  Priest, 
X.— The  Game  of  Chess,     . 
XI. — The  Denouement,  . 
XH.— Le  Roi  est  Mort,  Vive   la 
Reine, 


FAOK 

108 
116 
123 
128 
133 
142 

152 
156 
164 
178 


194 
200 
207 
213 
223 


256 
262 
272 


294 


HENRY  YIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


BOOK   I. 


THE    WEDDING-DAY. 


CHAPTER    I. 

THE   CHOICE   OF  A   FATHEK-CONFESSOR. 

IT  was  in  the  year  1543.  King  Hen- 
ry the  Eighth  of  England  thought  him- 
self again  the  happiest  and  most  envi- 
able man  of  his  realm,  for  he  had  this 
day  once  more  celebrated  his  nuptials ; 
and  Katharine  Parr,  the  youthful  widow 
of  Lord  Latimer,  had  the  perilous  fortune 
of  being  chosen  as  the  sixth  wife  of  the 
king. 

The  bells  pealed  forth  from  all  the 
towers  of  London,  announcing  to  the 
people  that  the  sacred  ceremony  was 
about  to  commence  which  should  con- 
secrate Katharine  Parr  as  the  sixth 
queen  of  Henry  the  Eighth. 

The  ever-curious  and  sight-loving  mul- 
titude thronged  the  streets,  and  eagerly 
pressed  forward  toward  the  royal  palace, 
hoping  to  see  Katharine,  when  she 
should  appear  on  the  balcony  by  the 
side  of  her  royal  husband,  to  present 


herself  to  the  English  people  as  their 
queen,  and  to  receive  their  homage. 

Undoubtedly  it  was  a  high  and  ex- 
alted destiny  for  the  widow  of  an  humble 
baron  to  become  the  wife  of  the  King 
of  England,  and  to  wear  a  royal  diadem 
upon  her  brow.  But  Katharine  Parr's 
heart  was  filled,  nevertheless,  with  anx- 
ious foreboding;  her  cheeks  were  pale 
and  cold,  and  her  firmly-compressed  lips 
had  scarcely  the  power  of  uttering  the 
decisive  "I  WILL  "  before  the  altar. 

At  length  the  sacred  ceremony  was 
over.  Whereupon*  the  two  spiritual 
dignitaries — Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, and  Cranmer,  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury — led  the  young  spouse,  con- 
formably with  court  etiquette,  to  her 
apartments,  in  order  to  consecrate  them, 
and  to  pray  with  her  once  more,  ere  the 
temporal  festivities  should  begin. 

Anxious  and  pale  though  she  was, 
Katharine  sustained  with  true  royal 
bearing  and  dignity  the  various  ceremo- 
nies of  the  day ;  and  as  she  now,  with 


8 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


proudly-raised  head  and  firm  step,  pro- 
ceeded through  the  sumptuous  apart- 
ments between  the  two  episcopal  digni- 
taries, nobody  suspected  what  a  heavy 
burden  oppressed  her  heart,  or  what 
portentous  voices  were  whispering  in 
her  bosom. 

Accompanied  by  her  attendants,  and 
followed  by  the  train  of  her  new  cour- 
tiers, she  had  passed  through  the  state 
apartments,  and  now  stood  within  the 
private  chambers  of  the  palace.  She 
here  dismissed  her  courtiers  according 
to  the  etiquette  of  the  time,  and  only  the 
two  bishops  and  the  ladies  of  her  suite 
were  permitted  to  enter  the  drawing- 
room.  Even  the  bishops  were  not  suf- 
fered to  attend  her  beyond  this  apart- 
ment. The  king  himself  had  laid  down 
the  rules  of  proceeding  for  this  day,  and 
he  would  have  declared  as  a  traitor  any 
person  who  might  have  had  the  temer- 
ity to  violate  these  rules  in  the  slightest 
degree, — nay,  perhaps  have  sent  the 
offender  to  the  scaffold. 

Katharine  accordingly  turned,  with  a 
faint  smile,  to  the  two  spiritual  func- 
tionaries, and  requested  them  to  await 
her  commands.  She  then  beckoned  to 
her  ladies  in  waiting  to  follow  her  into 
her  boudoir. 

Meanwhile  the  two  bishops  remained 
alone  in  the  drawing-room,  and  this  pe- 
culiar juxtaposition  seemed  to  produce 
upon  each  of  them  an  equally  unfavor- 
able impression  ;  for  with  scowling  anc 
averted  looks,  and  as  if  by  mutual  ac 
cord,  they  each  withdrew  to  opposite 
sides  of  the  spacious  apartment. 

A  long  pause  ensued     Nothing  was 


leard  but  the  monotonous  strokes  of  the 
lendulum  of  a  large  and  costly  clock, 
which  stood  over  the  fireplace,  and  the 
noisy  acclamations  of  the  multitude  in 
the  streets,  who  pressed  forward  toward 
the  palace  like  a  troubled  sea. 

Gardiner  at  length  advanced  to  the 
window,  and  glanced  with  a  peculiar  and 
gloomy  smile  at  the  clouds,  which  were 
swept  by  the  hurricane  along  the  sky. 

Oranmer  still  held  aloof  at  the  other 
side  of  the  room,  and,  plunged  in  deep 
thought,  stood  contemplating  the  large 
portrait  of  Henry  the  Eighth  —  the 
work  of  Holbein's  master-hand.  As  he 
scanned  this  countenance,  which  be- 
trayed at  once  so  much  dignity  and  so 
much  ferocity — as  he  gazed  into  those 
eyes  whicli  looked  forth  with  such  sullen 
and  stern  severity — as  he  observed  those 
lips  which  smiled  so  wantonly  and 
withal  so  implacably — the  prelate  felt  a 
deep  sympathy  for  the  young  wife,  whom 
he  had  this  day  devoted  to  such  splendid 
wretchedness. 

He  reflected  that  he  had  already,  on 
former  occasions,  conducted  two  of  the 
king's  wives  to  the  altar,  and  had 
blessed  their  nuptials ;  and  he  reflected 
too,  that  he  had  attended  both  those 
queens,  at  a  later  period,  when  they 
were  about  to  mount  the  scaffold. 

How  easily  might  the  unenviable 
young  wife  of  the  king  fall  a  victim  to 
the  same  gloomy  fate ; — how  speedily 
might  Katharine  Parr,  like  Anna  Bullen 
and  Katharine  Howard,  have  to  pay  for 
a  few  short  days  of  splendor  by  an  igno- 
minious death!  A  single  thoughtless 
word — a  look — a  smile — might  be  her 


THE   CHOICE   OF  A  FATHER-CONFESSOR. 


9 


ruin ;  for  the  anger  and  the  jealousy  of 
the  king  were  incalculable,  and  no  pun- 
ishment seemed  to  him,  in  his  ferocious 
moods,  too  great  for  those  who  had 
offended  him. 

It  was  thoughts  of  this  kind  that  occu- 
pied the  mind  of  Archbishop  Cranmer. 
They  called  forth  within  him  feelings  of 
pity  and  tenderness,  and  caused  the  dark 
clouds  to  vanish  from  his  brow. 

He  even  smiled  now  at  the  ill-humor 
he  had  so  recently  evinced,  and  re- 
proached himself  for  having  been  so 
forgetful  of  his  sacred  calling — for  hav- 
ing, in  short,  shown  so  little  readiness 
to  meet  his  enemy  in  a  conciliating  spirit. 

For  Gardiner  was  his  enemy,  as 
Cranmer  well  knew.  Gardiner  had 
often  enough  proved  this  to  him  by 
deeds, — however  much  he  had  endeav- 
ored, by  words,  to  assure  him  of  his 
friendship. 

But  even  if  Gardiner  hated  him,  it  did 
not  follow  that  Cranmer  must  return 
his  enmity — that  he  must  regard  as  his 
foe  the  man  whom,  by  virtue  of  their 
elevated  calling  on  both  sides,  he  was 
bound  to  reverence  and  love  as  his 
brother. 

The  high-minded  Cranmer  therefore 
experienced  a  feeling  of  self-reproach  for 
his  momentary  ill-humor.  A  gentle 
smile  played  upon  his  calm  features; 
and  with  a  courteous  and  dignified  bear- 
ing, but  with  a  subdued  cordiality,  he 
crossed  the  room,  and  approached  the 
Bishop  of  Winchester. 

The  latter  looked  at  him  with  a  sullen 
scowl,  and,  without  .moving  from  the 
recess  in  which  he  stood,  near  the  win- 


dow, awaited  Cranmer's  approach.  As 
Gardiner  beheld  the  noble  and  ingenu- 
ous countenance  before  him,,  he  felt  as 
though  he  would  ra^se  his  hand,  and 
smite  the  face  of  the  man  who  had  thus 
dared  to  enter  the  lists,  and  contest  with 
him  the  palm  of  fame  and  honor.  But 
he  seasonably  reflected  that  Cranmer 
was  still  the  king's  favorite,  and  that 
he  must  therefore  be  dealt  with  judi- 
ciously. He  accordingly  drove  his  fierce 
impulses  back  into  his  heart,  and  suffered 
his  features  to  resume  their  wonted 
stern  and  impenetrable  expression. 

Cranmer  now  stood  before  him,  and 
his  clear  and  animated  glance  rested 
upon  the  sullen  features  of  Gardiner. 

"  I  have  come  to  your  lordship,"  said 
Cranmer,  in  his  mild,  well-modulated 
voice,  "  to  tell  you  that  I  heartily  wisli  the 
queen  may  choose  you  for  her  director 
and  father-confessor,  and  to  assure  you 
that  if  she  do  so,  I  shall  not  feel  the  slight- 
est envy  or  animosity  on  that  account — 
indeed  I  shall  perfectly  understand  and 
appreciate  the  circumstance,  if  her  majes- 
ty should  select  the  eminent  and  distin- 
guished Bishop  of  Winchester  for  her 
spiritual  adviser;  and  the  esteem  and 
admiration  which  I  now  entertain  for 
you  will  only  become  enhanced.  Let  me 
therefore  confirm  this  assurance  to  your 
lordship,  by  offering  my  hand." 

He  presented  to  Gardiner  his  hand, 
which  the  latter  accepted  with  some 
hesitation,  and  barely  touched. 

"Your  grace  is  very  generous,"  said 
Gardiner,  "  and  I  must  compliment  you 
on  being  an  excellent  diplomatist;  for 
you  would  give  me  to  understand,  in  a 


10 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COUKT. 


very  ingenious  manner,  what  my  duty 
will  be,  in  case  the  queen  should  select 
you  for  her  spiritual  guide.  That  she 
will  do  so,  indeed,  you  know  full  well 
as  I  do  myself.  This  is  therefore  but  a 
humiliation  imposed  upon  me  by  eti- 
quette, which  obliges  me  to  stand  wait- 
ing here,  to  know  if  I  shall  be  chosen  or 
disdainfully  set  aside." 

"Why  do  you  view  the  matter  in 
such  an  unfriendly  manner  ? "  said 
Cranmer,  mildly—"  why  regard  it  as  a 
mark  of  contempt,  if  you  should  not  be 
selected  for  an  office  to  which  indeed 
neither  worth  nor  merit  can  summon 
you — but  only  the  personal  feeling  and 
confidence  of  a  young  woman  ? " 

"Ah !  then  you  admit  that  I  shall  not 
be  chosen  !  "  exclaimed  Gardiner,  with 
a  sinister  smile. 

"I  have  already  told  you,  my  lord, 
that  I  am  wholly  unacquainted  with 
the  queen's  wishes,  and  I  believe  it  is 
known  that  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
is  in  the  habit  of  speaking  the  truth." 

"Certainly;  but  it  is  equally  well 
known  that  Katharine  Parr  has  hereto- 
fore been  a  zealous  admirer  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury;  and  that  now, 
when  she  has  attained  her  object,  and 
has  become  queen,  it  will  be  her  duty  to 
testify  her  gratitude  to  him." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  insinuate  by  that," 
said  Cranmer,  "that  I  have  been  the  in- 
strument of  her  elevation? — If  so,  I  as- 
sure your  lordship,  that  in  this,  as  well 
as  in  many  other  matters  which  concern 
me,  you  are  misinformed." 

"Possibly  so,"  replied  Gardiner,  cold- 
ly. "At  all  events,  it  is  certain  that 


the  young  queen  is  an  enthusiastic  pro- 
tector of  the  infamous  new  doctrines 
hatched  in  Germany,  which  are  spread- 
ing like  a  pestilence  over  Europe,  and 
bearing  mischief  and  ruin  to  all  Christen-, 
dom.  Yes,  Katharine  Parr,  the  present 
queen,  is  favorably  disposed  toward  the 
arch-heretic,  against  whom  the  Holy 
Father  of  Rome  has  hurled  his  crushing 
anathema:  she  is  an  adherent  of  the 
Reformation." 

"  You  forget,"  said  Cranmer,  with  a 
quiet  smile,  "that  this  anathema  has 
also  been  hurled  at  the  head  of  our  own 
king,  and  that  it  has  proved  as  ineffec- 
tive against  Henry  the  Eighth  as  against 
Martin  Luther.  I  might  remind  you,  at 
the  same  time,  that  we  no  longer  call 
the  Pope  of  Rome,  '  Holy  Father,'  and 
that  you  have  yourself  acknowledged  the 
king  to  be  the  supreme  head  of  the 
Church  of  England." 

Gardiner  turned  aside  his  face,  in 
order  to  conceal  the  ill-humor  and  ran- 
cor depicted  on  his  countenance.  He 
felt  that  he  had  gone  too  far — that  he 
had  too  far  betrayed  the  secret  thoughts 
of  his  soul. 

But  he  was  not  at  all  times  able  to 
curb  the  passionate  impulses  of  his  na- 
ture ;  and  albeit  a  man  of  the  world, 
and  a  diplomatist,  there  still  were  mo- 
ments when  the  fanatical  priest  bore 
sway  over  the  courtier,  and  the  wily 
diplomatist  gave  way  to  the  ecclesiastic. 

Cranmer  felt  compassion  for  Gardi- 
ner's embarrassment,  and,  yielding  to  the 
natural  kindness  of  his  disposition,  he 
said,  in  a  friendly  tone : 

"  Let  us  not  here  dispute  about  dog- 


THE   CHOICE   OF  A  FATHER-CONFESSOR, 


11 


mas,  or  attempt  to  decide  which  is  most 
at  fault,  Luther  or  the  pope.  We  are 
here  in  the  apartment  of  the  young 
queen,  and  let  us  therefore  consider  for 
a  moment  what  may  he  the  probable 
fate  of  this  lady,  whom  God  has  ap- 
pointed to  so  brilliant  a  destiny." 

"  Brilliant !  "  said  Gardiner,  with  an 
ironical  smile.  "  Let  us  first  await  the 
end  of  her  career,  before  we  decide  if  it 
was  brilliant  or  not.  Many  queens  al- 
ready have  believed  that  they  should 
find  a  bed  of  roses  here,  who  speedily 
became  convinced  that  their  couch  was 
a  glowing  furnace,  which  consumed  their 
very  bones." 

"  True,"  murmured  Oranmer,  with  a 
slight  shudder,  "it  is  a  perilous  fate  to 
be  the  wife  of  a  king.  But,  even  for 
this  reason,  let  us  not  enhance  the  dan- 
ger of  her  position  by  adding  to  it  our 
hostility  and  ill-will.  For  this  reason  I 
beg  of  you  (and  for  my  own  part  I 
pledge  ray  word  upon  the  matter),  what- 
ever may  be  the  queen's  choice,  not  to 
feel  annoyed  thereat,  nor  to  seek  re- 
venge. For  we  all  know  that  women 
are  strange,  unaccountable  creatures  in 
their  wishes  and  inclinations." 

"Ah!  it  seems  you  understand 
women  tolerably  well,"  said  Gardiner, 
with  a  malicious  smile.  "  Really,  if  you 
were  not  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
and  had  the  king  not  forbidden  the 
marriage  of  ecclesiastics  under  a  severe 
penalty,  one  might  suppose  you  had  a 
wife  yourself,  and  that  yon  had  learned 
from  your  own  experience  the  funda- 
mental points  of  the  female  character." 

Cranmer  turned  away,   and,   with  a 


certain  embarrassment,  seemed  to  avoid 
the  keen  and  sarcastic  glance  of  Gardi- 
ner. 

"  It  is  not  of  me  that  we  were  speak- 
ing," said  the  archbishop,  at  length, 
"  hut  of  the  young  queen,  and  I  would 
earnestly  entreat  your  good- will  on  her 
behalf.  I  have  seen  her  to-day  for  the 
first  time,  and  have  never  spoken  to  her; 
but  her  countenance  made  a  strong  im- 
pression upon  me,  and  her  looks  seemed 
as  if  they  besought  us  both  to  continue 
steadfast  friends  by  her  side,  along  the 
thorny  path  which  lies  before  her,  and 
which  five  women  have  already  trodden 
— only  to  find  wretchedness  and  tears — 
ignominy  and  blood !  " 

"Katharine,  too,  must  beware,  and 
not  abandon  the  right  paths,  as  her 
predecessors  did,"  exclaimed  Gardiner. 
"Let  us  hope,  for  her  own  sake,  that 
she  will  be  prudent  and  watchful,  and 
that  she  may  be  enlightened  by  God 
with  a  knowledge  of  the  true  faith,  and 
not  suffer  herself  to  be  led  astray  by  the 
errors  of  ungodly  heretics,  but  remain 
faithful  and  constant  with  the  true  be- 
lievers." 

"  Who  can  say  who  the  true  believers 
are?"  murmured  Cranmer.  "There 
are  so  many  ways  that  lead  to  Heaven, 
who  can  tell  which  is  the  right  one  ?  " 

"  That  which  we  travel !  "  exclaimed 
Gardiner,  with  the  haughty  pride  of  the 
genuine  ecclesiastic.  "Woe  betide  the 
queen  if  she  should  swerve  into  strange 
paths !  Woe  betide  her  if  she  lend  an 
ear  to  the  errors  which  are  wafted 
hither  from  Germany  and  from  Switzer- 
land, and  if  she  fancy,  in  the  worldly 


12 


.HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


wisdom  of  her  heart,  that  she  will  be 
able  to  rest  securely!  For  my  part,  I 
shall  be  her  most  zealous  and  devoted 
servant,  if  she  is  for  me — but  her  most 
implacable  enemy,  if  against  rne !  " 

"  And  shall  you  consider  it  as  against 
you,  if  the  queen  should  not  choose  you 
for  her  father-confessor  ? " 

"Do  you  wish  to  understand  that  I 
should  consider  it  as  for  me  ?  " 

"Well,  then,  God  grant  that  her 
choice  may  fall  upon  you ! "  exclaimed 
Oranmer,  fervently,  while  he  clasped  his 
hands,  and  looked  up  toward  heaven. 
"  Poor,  hapless  queen !  The  first  proof 
of  thy  husband's  love  may  become  the 
prime  source  of  thy  misfortune !  "Why, 
then,  did  he  leave  thee  the  liberty  of 
choosing  thy  own  director — why  not 
himself  have  made  the  choice  for 
thee?" 

And  with  a  deep  sigh,  Cranmer  bent 
his  head  upon  his  breast. 

At  this  moment,  the  door  of  the 
royal  closet  opened,  and  Lady  Jane,  the 
daughter  of  Lord  Douglas,  and  first  lady- 
in-waiting  to  the  queen,  appeared  on 
the  threshold. 

The  two  prelates  looked  toward  her 
in  breathless  silence.  It  was  an  anxious 
and  a  solemn  moment — the  deep  signifi- 
cance of  which '  they  all  three  under- 
stood. 

"  Her  majesty  the  queen" — said  Lady 
Jane,  in  a  faltering  voice — "her  majesty 
the  queen  commands  the  attendance  of 
his  grace  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
in  her  closet,  that  he  may  join  with  her 
in  prayer." 

"  Unhappy  queen  1 "  murmured  Cran- 


mer, as  he  crossed  the  apartment  tow- 
ard the  royal  closet — "unhappy  queen  I 
she  has  just  made  for  herself  an  impla- 
cable enemy  for  life." 

Lady  Jane  waited  until  Cranmer  had 
disappeared  through  the  door,  and  then 
approaching  the  Bishop  of  Winchester 
with  rapid  steps,  and  bending  her  knee 
before  him,  said,  with  an  accent  of  deep 
humility : 

"Pardon,  my  lord,  pardon!  My 
words  were  vain — they  were  powerless 
to  shake  her  resolution." 

Gardiner  assisted  the  fair  postulant  to 
rise,  and  said,  with  a  forced  smile : 

"  It  is  well,  Lady  Jane,  it  is  well.  I 
doubt  not  your  zeal.  You  are  a  faithful 
daughter  of  the  Church,  and  for  this  she 
will  love  and  reward  you  as  a  mother. 
Then  the  matter  is  decided — the  queen 
is—" 

"A  heretic!  "  whispered  Lady  Jane. 
"Woe  betide  her!" 

"  And  will  you  be  faithful  and  con- 
stant to  me?" 

"Faithful  in  deed  and  in  thought,  to 
the  last  drop  of  my  blood !  " 

"Then  we  shall  conquer  Katharine 
Parr  as  we  have  conquered  Katharine 
Howard.  To  the  scaffold  with  the  here- 
tic !  We  have  found  the  means  of  send- 
ing Katharine  Howard  to  the  block,  and 
now,  Lady  Jane,  you  must  find  a  way 
for  us  to  lead  Katharine  Parr  to  the 
same  destiny." 

"I  will  undertake  to  do  so,"  said 
Lady  Jane,  placidly.  "She  loves  me, 
and  confides  in  me.  I  will  betray  her 
friendship,  that  I  may  remain  true  to  my 
faith." 


THE  QUEEN  AND   HER  BOSOM   FRIEND. 


13 


"  Then  Katharine  Parr  is  lost !  "  said 
Gardiner,  aloud. 

"Yes,  she  is  lost,*'  repeated  Lord 
Douglas,  who  had  just  entered,  and  had 
overheard  the  last  words  of  the  bishop, 
— "  yes,  she  is  lost,  for  we  shall  ever  be  her 
watchful  and  inexorable  enemies.  But 
I  fear  it  is  not  prudent  to  utter  these 
sentiments  in  the  queen's  anteroom. 
Let  us  therefore  abide  a  more  season- 
able opportunity.  But  now,  my  lord, 
you  must  betake  yourself  to  the  grand 
audience-chamber,  where  the  whole 
court  is  already  assembled,  and  only 
awaits  the  king's  pleasure  to  conduct 
the  young  queen  in  solemn  procession  to 
the  balcony," 

Gardiner  nodded  a  silent  assent,  and 
forthwith  proceeded  to  the  audience- 
chamber. 

Lord  Douglas  followed  him  with  his 
daughter.  "Katharine  Parr  is  lost,"  he 
whispered  in  Lady  Jane's  ear,  "  and  you 
will  be  the  seventh  wife  of  the  king." 

During  this  conversation  in  the  ante- 
chamber the  young  queen  was  on  her 
knees  before  Cranmer,  and  with  him 
was  addressing  a  prayer  to  Heaven  for 
prosperity  and  peace.  Tears  filled  her 
eyes,  and  she  felt  her  heart  tremble 
within  her,  as  if  anticipating  some  ap- 
proaching misfortune. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    QUEEN   AND   IIEE   BOSOM    FEIEND. 

THIS  long  day  of  ceremonials  and  'so- 
lemnities was  at  length  drawing  to  a  close, 
and  Katharine  hoped  soon  to  be  relieved 
from  the  simulated  homage  and  the  arti- 
ficial smiles  of  her  courtiers. 

She  had  shown  herself  on  the  balcony 
beside  her  husband,  in  order  to  receive 
the  greetings  of  the  people,  and  to  bow 
her  acknowledgments.  After  this,  the 
newly-appointed  members  of  her  court 
moved  in  solemn  procession  before  her  in 
the  throne-room  •  and  to  each  of  these  no- 
ble lords  and  ladies  in  turn  she  addressed 
a  few  affable  observations  as  they  passed 
along.  And  this  being  over,  she  assisted 
her  royal  husband  in  giving  audience  to 
the  deputation  from  the  metropolis  and 
from  the  Parliament.  Yet  it  was  with 
an  inward  shudder  that  she  heard  from 
their  lips  the  stereotyped  congratulations 
and  the  fulsome  addresses  with  which 
those  deputies  had  on  similar  occasions 
greeted  five  of  the  king's  former  wives. 

Nevertheless  she  succeeded  in  her  ef- 
forts to  smile  and  to  look  happy,  for  she 
knew  that  the  gaze  of  the  king  was  con- 
tinually fixed  upon  her,  and  that  all  the 
noble  lords  and  ladies  who  now  ap- 
proached her  with  such  demonstrations 
of  apparent  humility  and  homage,  were 
all  of  them  at  heart  her  most  bitter  ene- 
mies— for,  by  her  marriage  with  the 
king,  she  had  foiled  the  schemes  and  de- 
stroyed the  hopes  of  so  many,  who 
thought  themselves  better  entitled  to  oc- 
cupy the  high  position  of  a  queen.  She 


HENRY  YIIL  AND   HIS  COURT. 


knew  that  those  disappointed  ones  would 
never  forgive  her — that  she,  who  had  only 
yesterday  been  their  equal,  was  to-day 
lifted  above  their  heads,  as  their  queen 
and  mistress ;  and  she  knew  that  all  of 
them  watched  like  spies  her  every  word 
and  gesture^  that  they  might  perchance 
be  able  to  fabricate  an  accusation  against 
her  which  would  seal  her  doom. 

But  still  she  smiled !  She  smiled,  al- 
though she  felt  that  the  king's  jealous 
anger — so  easily  excited  and  so  fiercely 
violent — hung  evermore  above  her  head 
like  the  sword  of  Damocles. 

She  smiled  lest  this  sword  should  one 
day  descend  upon  herself. 

At  length,  however,  all  these  state 
ceremonies  and  pageantries  and  all  these 
outward  marks  of  homage  and  rejoicing 
were  over ;  and  now  the  more  agreeable 
and  satisfactory  part  of  the  festivity  was 
about  to  commence. 

The  guests  had  assembled  at  table. 
This  was  the  first  moment  of  quiet  and 
repose  which  Katharine  had  enjoyed 
throughout  the  day.  For  when  Henry 
sat  down  to  table  he  ceased  to  be  a  digni- 
fied monarch  or  a  jealous  husband — he 
was  only  the  skilful  epicure,  the  sensual 
gourmand ;  and  whether  the  pasties  were 
well  seasoned,  or  the  pheasants  savory, 
were  for  him  far  more  important  ques- 
tions than  what  concerned  the  welfare 
of  his  people  or  the  good  of  his  kingdom. 

After  dinner,  however,  a  novel  recrea- 
tion was  introduced,  a  new  species  of 
entertainment,  which  at  least  for  a  time 
banished  from  Katharine's  heart  all 
gloomy  apprehensions  and  sinister  fore- 
bodings, and  which  imparted  to  her  coun- 


tenance a  glow  of  cheerful  and  serene 
enjoyment.  The  king  had  prepared  a 
surprise  for  his  young  wife,  which  was  at 
that  time  of  a  novel  character.  He  had 
caused  a  theatre  to  be  erected  within 
the  palace  of  Whitehall,  on  the  stage  of 
which  was  represented  one  of  the  com- 
edies of  Plautus,  by  the  gentlemen  of  the 
court. 

Dramatic  representations  had  hitherto 
been  confined  to  those  pieces  called 
"Moralities"  and  "Mystery  Plays," 
which  were  acted  by  the  people  on  the  oc- 
casion of  certain  church  festivals.  Hen- 
ry the  Eighth  was  accordingly  the  first 
monarch  who  had  a  theatre  established 
in  England  for  secular  entertainments, 
and  who  introduced  what  perhaps  itfay 
be  called  "the  legitimate  drama,"  as  dis- 
tinguished from  mere  dramatized  epi- 
sodes of  ecclesiastical  history.  As  he 
had  liberated  the  Church  from  the  spirit- 
ual dominion  of  the  pope,  so  he  wished 
to  render  the  stage  free  from  the  control 
of  the  Church,  and  to  see  comedies 
performed  of  a  less  serious  character 
than  those  which  depicted  the  broiling 
of  saints  or  the  massacre  of  pious  women. 

Moreover,  what  need  of  such  scenic 
butchery  on  the  stage,  when  the  king  had 
a  real  performance  daily  exhibited? 
The  burning  of  Christian  martyrs  and  of 
godly-minded  maidens  was  a  matter  of 
such  everyday  occurrence  under  the  reign 
of  Henry  the  Eighth,  that  it  no  longer 
furnished  himself  or  his  court  with  an 
amusing  entertainment. 

But  the  representation  of  a  Eonian 
comedy  promised  a  new  and  piquant 
pleasure,  and  would  at  least  be  a  surprise 


THE  QUEEN  AND  HER  BOSOM 


15 


for  the  young  queen.  Henry  therefore 
caused  the  "  CUJRCULIO  "  to  be  acted  be- 
fore his  wife  ;  and  whenever  Katharine 
blushed  at  the  obscene  and  scurrilous 
jests  of  the  Eoman  poet,  the  king  felt 
highly  amused,  and  accompanied  the 
most  indecent  allusions  and  the  most 
licentious  passages  with  boisterous  laugh- 
ter and  loud  applause. 

This  entertainment  too  was  at  length 
over.  And  now  Katharine  was  at  liber- 
ty to  retire  with  her  ladies  to  her  private 
apartments. 

With  a  gracious  smile  she  dismissed 
the  gentlemen  of  her  suite,  and  requested 
"ier  ladies,  among  whom  was  Anne  As- 
kew, the  second  lady  of  her  bedchamber, 
to  await  her  commands  in  her  dressing- 
room.  She  then  gave  her  arm  to  her 
friend,  Lady  Jane  Douglas,  and  they 
both  entered  the  queen's  closet. 

At  length  she  was  alone — at  length 
unwatchcd.  The  smile  vanished  from 
her  lips,  and  an  expression  of  deep  sad- 
ness marked  ho*  features. 

"Jane,"  she  said,  "shut  the  doors 
and  draw  the  window-curtains,  that  no 
one  may  see  or  hear  me — no  one  but 
yourself,  my  friend,  the  companion  of 
other  and  happier  days.  Alas!  alas! 
why  was  I  ever  so  ill-advised  as  to  leave 
my  father's  quiet  mansion,  and  go 
abroad  into  the  world — so  full  of  snares 
and  terrors  ? " 

She  sighed  and  groaned  deeply;  and 
covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  she 
sank  back  in  her  chair,  weeping  and 
trembling. 

Lady  June  contemplated  her  mistress 
with  a  peculiar  aud  sinister  smile. 


"She  is  a  queen,  and  yet  she  weeps," 
said  the  maid  of  honor,  to  herself. 
"Ah,  well!  how  can  one  be  a  queen 
nowadays,  and  not  feel  unhappy?  " 

She  approached  Katharine,  and  sitting 
on  a  stool  at  her  feet,  seized  her  hand, 
which  she  kissed. 

"Your  majesty  weeps,"  she  said,  with 
an  insinuating  tone.  '•  Alas,  I  fear  you 
are  unhappy,  while  I,  who  heard,  with 
an  outburst  of  delight,  the  news  of  this 
wonderful  good  fortune  of  my  friend, 
thought  I  should  find  her  radiant  with 
joy,  as  an  exalted  and  happy  queen; 
and  my  only  anxiety — my  only  fear, 
was,  lest  the  queen  should  have  ceased 
to  be  my  friend  any  longer.  For  this 
reason,  I  urged  ray  father  to  come  away 
at  once,  according  to  your  commands, 
and,  leaving  Dublin,  to  hasten  hither 
without  delay." 

Katharine  removed  her  hand  from 
her  face,  and  looked  at  her  friend  with 
a  smile  of  sadness. 

"  Well,  Jane,"  she  said,  "  are  you  not 
satisfied  with  what  you  have  seen  ? 
Have  I  not  shown  you,  all  this  day,  a 
queen  smiling  in  the  guise  of  happiness 
— did  I  not  wear  costly  robes  embroid- 
ered with  gold — did  not  my  neck 
sparkle  with  brilliants,  and  did  not  a 
royal  diadem  adorn  my  brow,  while  a 
king  sat  by  my  side?  Let  this  suffice 
for  the  present.  You  have  all  this  day 
seen  the  queen.  Allow  me  now,  there- 
fore, for  a  few  brief  and  happy  moments, 
to  become  the  woman,  with  lively  and 
sensitive  feelings,  who  can  disclose  to 
her  friend  all  her  troubles  and  sorrows. 
Ah,  Jane,  if  you  only  knew  how  I  have 


16 


HENRY   VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


longed  for  this  hour,  how  I  yearned  for 
your  sympathy  as  the  only  relief  to  this 
poor  stricken  and  wounded  heart; — 
how  earnestly  I  besought  Heaven  to 
grant  me  this  favor,  that  I  might  once 
more  have  my  Jane  back  with  me,  that 
she  might  condole  with  my  sorrows, 
and  that  I  might  always  have  near  me 
one  friend,  at  least,  who  Could  under- 
stand me,  and  who  does  not  suffer  her- 
self to  be  dazzled  by  all  this  wretched 
parade  and  outward  splendor !  " 

"  Unhappy  Katharine !  "  murmured 
Lady  Jane.  "  Unhappy  queen  !  " 

Katharine  started,  and  placed  her 
hand,  which  glistened  with  diamonds, 
upon  the  lips  of  her  friend. 

"Pray  do  not  address  me  so,"  said 
the  queen.  "Alas,  that  one  word  re- 
calls all  the  terrors  of  the  past.  Queen ! 
Does  not  that  mean  to  be  condemned 
like  a  criminal  to  the  block?  A  death- 
shudder  passes  through  my  veins  at  the 
bare  thought!  I  am  the  sixth  queen  of 
Henry  the  Eighth.  I  shall  therefore  be 
sent  to  the  scaffold ;  or  else  be  covered 
with  disgrace,  and  turned  adrift." 

Once  more  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands,  and  her  whole  frame  trembled 
with  violent  emotion.  She  did  not 
therefore  perceive  the  malignant  smile 
with  which  Lady  Jane  again  contem- 
plated her;  nor  did  she  suspect  with 
what  secret  delight  her  "friend"  per- 
ceived her  tears  and  her  anguish. 

"Well,  I'm  revenged,  at  least!" 
thought  Lady  Jane,  while  she  smoothed 
down  the  queen's  hair  caressingly — 
"  yes,  I'm  revenged.  She  has  robbed 
me  of  a  crown ;  but  in  the  golden  cup 


which  she  raises  to  her  lips  she  shal] 
find  nothing  but  wormwood  and  gall. 
If  this  sixth  queen  does  not  mount  the 
scaffold,  we  shall  at  least  be  able  to 
hasten  her  death  by  a  broken  heart." 

She  then  continued  aloud:  "But  why 
these  fears,  Katharine  ?  The  king  loves 
you;  the  whole  court  observed  with 
what  earnest  and  affectionate  looks  the 
king  gazed  upon  you  to-day,  and  with 
what  delight  he  hung  upon  every  word 
you  uttered.  Certainly  the  king  Io7es 
you." 

Katharine  grasped  her  hand  ardently. 
"The  king  loves  me,"  she  whispered, 
"but  still  I  tremble  before  him;  naj, 
more,  I  have  a  horror  of  bis  love.  His 
hands  are  steeped  in  blood,  and  as  I  sa\v 
him  to-day  in  his  purple  robes,  I  shud- 
dered, and  thought  how  soon  my  bloocl 
too  would  encrimson  that  purple." 

Lady  Jane  smiled.  "  You  are  uuweil. 
Katharine,"  said  she.  "  This  sudden 
good  fortune  has  overcome  you,  anc 
your  excited  nerves  cause  all  sorts  of 
horrors  to  spring  up  in  your  imagina- 
tion— nothing  more." 

"No,  no,  Jane,  these  thoughts  are 
always  present  to  my  mind,  and  they 
have  never  left  me  since  the  moment  the 
king  made  choice  of  me  for  his  wife." 

"And  why  did  you  not  refuse  him, 
accordingly  ? "  asked  Lady  Jane.  "  Why 
not  have  declined  the  king's  suit? " 

"Ah,  Jane,  are  you  such  a  stranger 
to  this  court  as  not  to  know  that  one 
must  either  yield  to  the  king's  wishes  or 
die?  Alas,  I  am  envied!  People  call 
me  the  greatest  and  mightiest  woman 
in  England.  But  they  know  not  that  I 


THE  QUEEN  AND  HER  BOSOM  FRIEND. 


17 


am  poorer  and  more  powerless  than  the 
mendicant  in  the  streets,  who  has  at 
least  the  right  of  refusing  her  hand  at 
her  own  option.  For  me,  I  dared  not 
refuse ;  I  had  no  alternative  but  to  ac- 
cept the  king's  proffered  hand — or  die. 
I  was  unwilling  to  die  so  soon;  I  have 
still  so  many  claims  upon  life,  and  as 
yet  so  few  of  them  have  heen  vouch- 
safed me.  Alas  for  my  poor  cheerless 
existence !  for  what  has  it  been,  but  a 
continued  series  of  denials  and  priva- 
tions— of  sad  reminiscences  and  blighted 
hopes  ?  It  is  true,  I  have  never  experi- 
enced what  is  called  misfortune;  but 
what  greater  misfortune  can  there  be 
than  to  be  unhappy — than  to  sigh 
through  life  without  a  wish  or  a  hope, 
and  to  suffer  the  perpetual  tedium  of  an 
insipid  and  joyless  existence  in  the  midst 
of  luxury  and  splendor?  " 

"You  say  that  formerly  you  were 
not  unhappy,  and  yet  you  were  left  an 
orphan  ? " 

"I  lost  my  mother  so  early  that  I 
scarcely  knew  her,  and  when  my  father 
died,  I  regarded  it  almost  as  a  blessing, 
for  be  never  acted  toward  me  as  a  par- 
ent, but  only  as  a  harsh  and  tyrannical 
master." 

'But  then  you  were  married  ? " 

"Married!"  said  Katharine,  with  a 
sad  smile.  "  Yes,  that  is  to  say,  my 
father  sold  me  to  an  old,  gouty  invalid, 
in  whose  sick-chamber  I  spent  a  cheer- 
less and  fearfully  tedious  year,  until 
Jx>rd  Latimer  made  me  a  rich  widow. 
People  regarded  that,  too,  as  another 
piece  of  good  fortune,  for  now  I  was  a 
widow,  young,  rich,  and  independent. 


But  what  advantage  was  such  indepen- 
dence to  me  ? — it  only  fettered  me  with 
fresh  bonds.  Formerly  I  had  been  the 
slave  of  my  father  and  of  rny  husband, 
and  I  now  became  a  slave  to  my  riches : 
I  ceased  to  be  a  sick-nurse,  only  to  be- 
come the  manager  of  my  estates.  That 
was  certainly  the  most  wearisome  part 
of  my  life,  and  yet  I  am  indebted  to  it 
for  my  only  real  happiness — for  it  was 
then  that  I  made  your  acquaintance, 
Jane :  and  my  heart,  which  had  never 
experienced  any  more  tender  emotions, 
expanded  toward  you  with  all  the 
warmth  and  eagerness  of  a  first  affec- 
tion. And  up  to  the  moment  that  my 
long-absent  nephew  reappeared — after 
he  had  been  supposed  dead — and  de- 
prived me  of  the  inheritance  which  prop- 
erly belonged  to  him,  my  only  thought 
had  been  to  make  your  father  and  your- 
self the  heirs  to  my  property.  The 
world  condoled  with  me  upon  the  loss 
of  my  wealth.  But  I  thank  God  that 
He  has  relieved  me  of  the  burden,  and 
has  brought  me  to  London  in  order  to 
see  life  at  last — to  think  and  feel  like 
others,  and  at  length  to  know  real  hap- 
piness or  real  misfortune." 
"  And  which  did  you  find  ?  " 
"  Unhappiness,  Jane ! — for  am  I  not  a 
queen  ? " 

"  But  is  that  your  only  unhappiness  ? " 
"  Yes,  but  surely  that  is  great  enough. 
It  condemns  me  to  perpetual  anxiety — 
perpetual  dissimulation.  It  condemns 
mo  to  breathe  a  love  which  I  do  not 
feel,  and  to  suffer  caresses  which  make 
me  shudder,  for  they  are  but  the  heri- 
tage derived  from  five  unhappy  women. 


18 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


Oh,  Jane,  do  you  know  what  it  is  to  be 
obliged  to  embrace  a  man  who  has 
murdered  three  wives  and  put  away 
two  others — to  kiss  perforce  the  blood- 
stained lips  which  utter  vows  of  love 
with  the  same  readiness  that  they  pro- 
nounce a  decree  of  death  ?  The  very 
thought  makes  the  blood  run  cold  in  my 
veins!  I  shall  be  called  a  queen,  and 
yet  I  shall  be  doomed  to  tremble  for 
my  life  every  hour  in  the  day,  while  I 
must  conceal  my  anxiety  and  terror 
under  the  guise  of  happiness.  I  am 
barely  five-and-twenty  years  old,  and 
my  heart  is  still  the  heart  of  a  child — 
for  it  scarcely  knows  its  own  wishes. 
And  now  it  is  fated  never  to  know 
them,  for  I  am  Henry's  wife,  and  to 
love  another  would  be  to  mount  the 
scaffold.  The  scaffold !  Look,  Jane ! — 
When  the  king  approached  me  and 
confessed  his  love,  and  offered  his  hand, 
there  suddenly  rose  up  before  me  a  ter- 
rible picture.  It  was  no  longer  the  king 
that  I  saw  standing  there,  but  the  heads- 
man !  And  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  I  saw 
three  corpses  lying  at  his  feet,  and  with 
a  loud  shriek  I  sank  unconscious  on 
the  floor.  On  recovering  myself,  the 
king  held  me  in  his  arms.  He  believed 
it  was  the  suddenness  of  this  unex- 
pected honor  which  had  overpowered 
me.  He  kissed  me,  and  called  me  his 
bride ;  he  did  not  think  for  a  moment 
that  I  could  refuse  him.  And  I,  Jane — 
despise  me — I  was  such  a  coward  that  I 
could  not  find  courage  for  a  refusal — I 
yielded,  for  I  did  not  wish  to  die.  It 
seemed  to  me  at  this  moment  as  if  life 
beckoned  to  me  with  a  thousand  joys — 


a  thousand  delights  yet  in  store,  which  I 
had  never  tasted,  and  for  which  my 
soul  thirsted  as  for  manna  in  the  desert. 
I  wished  to  live — yes,  to  live,  at  any 
cost— in  order  one  day  perhaps  to  enjoy 
the  sweets  of  love  and  happiness.  But 
only  think,  Jane,  people  call  me  ambi- 
tious ;  they  say  I  have  given  my  hand  to 
Henry  only  because  he  is  a  king.  Ah  ! 
little  do  they  know  how  I  shuddered 
inwardly  at  this  crown.  They  little 
know  that  in  the  anguish  of  my  heart 
I  besought  the  king  not  to  raise  me  to 
this  dignity — so  that  I  might  avoid  mak- 
ing enemies  of  all  the  ladies  of  his 
realm.  They  know  not  that  I  confessed 
my  love  to  him,  only  that  I  might  be 
able  to  add,  that,  for  love  of  him,  I  was 
ready  to  forego  his  suit, — that  for  love 
of  him  I  was  willing  to  sacrifice  my  own 
happiness  for  his,  and  that  I  conjured 
him  to  choose  for  himself  a  worthy  wife 
among  the  hereditary  princesses  of  Eu- 
rope. But  Henry  rejected  the  pro- 
posal. He  wished  to  create  a  queen, 
and  to  possess  a  wife  who  should  be 
his  property,  and  whose  blood  he  might 
shed  as  her  supreme  and  sovereign  lord. 
His  queen  I  am  accordingly.  I  have 
accepted  my  fate,  and  henceforth  my 
life  will  be  a  perpetual  struggle,  an  un- 
ceasing warfare  with  death ;  but  I  will 
at  least  sell  my  life  as  dearly  as  possible, 
and  the  maxim  which  Cranmer  has 
suggested  shall  always  be  my  rule  of 
conduct  on  the  thorny  path  which  lies 
before  me." 

"And  what  may  that  maxim  be?" 
asked  Lady  Jane. 

'"Be  wise  as. the  serpent,  andinno- 


THE   QUEEN  AND   HER  BOSOU  FRIEND. 


19 


cent  as  the  dove,'"  replied  Katharine, 
with  a  faint  smile,  as  she  dropped  her 
head  upon  her  bosom,  and  abandoned  her- 
self to  painful  and  ominous  reflections. 

Lady  Jane  now  stood  opposite  her, 
and  contemplated  with  unmoved  and 
stern  composure  the  convulsed  and  ago- 
nized features,  and  the  trembling  frame 
of  the  young  queen,  for  whom  all  Eng- 
land had  this  day  kept  high  festival,  and 
who  sat  now  so  sad  and  woe-begone  be- 
fore her  simulated  friend. 

Suddenly  Katharine  raised  her  head. 
Her  countenance  had  now  assumed  quite 
a  different  expression, — it  was  calm, 
firm,  and  resolute.  Bending  slightly 
forward,  she  extended  to  Lady  Jane  her 
hand,  and  drew  her  friend  closer  to  her 
side. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you,  Jane,"  she  said, 
while  she  kissed  her  brow,  "I  have  to 
thank  you,  for  your  presence  has  done 
me  good  :  it  has  relieved  me  of  the  op- 
pressive burden  of  my  secret  sorrow. 
To  express  one's  cares  freely  to  a  friend 
is  the  best  cure  for  them.  Hencefor- 
ward you  will  find  me  more  cheerful  and 
composed.  The  woman  has  laid  her 
griefs  before  you,  but  the  queen  knows 
she  has  a  task  to  fulfil,  as  difficult  as  it 
is  important,  and  I  pledge  my  word  to 
perform  it.  The  new  light  which  has 
gone  forth  to  the  world  shall  no  longer 
be  obscured  by  blood  and  tears,  and  no 
longer  shall  the  wise  and  the  just  be  con- 
demned like  malefactors  and  traitors  in 
this  unhappy  land.  This  is  the  task 
which  God  has  assigned  me,  and  I  swear 
in  His  presence  that  I  will  accomplish  it! 
Will  you  help  me  to  do  so,  Jane  ? " 


Lady  Jane  replied  by  a  few  equivocal 
words,  which  Katharine  did  not  catch, 
and  as  the  latter  looked  at  her,  she  per- 
ceived with  astonishment  the  deadly  pal- 
lor which  of  a  sudden  overspread  the 
countenance  of  her  maid  of  honor. 

Katharine  started,  and  looked  at  her 
with  an  earnest  and  steadfast  gaze,  as  if 
to  penetrate  her  thoughts. 

Lady  Jane  shrank  from  the  inquiring 
and  animated  glance  of  the  queen,  and 
cast  her  eyes  toward  the  ground.  Her 
religious  zeal  had  for  a  moment  over- 
powered her ;  and  however  much  she 
was  accustomed  to  conceal  her  thoughts 
and  feelings,  yet  on  this  occasion  she 
was  for  the  moment  thrown  off  her 
guard,  so  as  to  betray  her  sentiments  to 
the  keen  eye  of  her  mistress. 

"It  is  a  long  time  since  we  saw  each 
other,"  said  Katharine,  sadly.  "Three 
years !  That  is  a  long  period  in  the  his- 
tory of  a  young  girl's  heart.  And  all 
this  time  you  were  with  your  father  in 
Dublin — at  that  stanchly  Catholic  court 
— I  had  forgotten  that.  But,  however 
your  views  may  have  altered,  your  heart 
I  know  is  still  the  same,  and  you  will 
always  be  the  noble,  high-minded  Jane 
of  former  years — who  would  never  stoop 
to  a  falsehood — even  though  it  were  to 
bring  her  fortune  and  splendor.  I  there- 
fore ask  you,  Jane,  what  religion  you 
now  profess?  Do  you  believe  in  the 
Pope  of  Kome,  as  the  sole  head  of  the 
Church,  or  do  you  adhere  to  the  new 
teaching  of  Luther  and  Calvin  ? " 

Lady  Jane  smiled.  "  Think  you,"  she 
said,  "  I  would  have  ventured  to  appear 
in  yonr  presence  if  I  still  belonged  to  the 


20 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


Catholic  party  ?  Katharine  Parr  is  hailed 
by  the  Protestants  of  England  as  the 
new  protectress  of  their  imperilled  doc- 
trines ;  and  already  the  priests  of  the 
Roman  Church  launch  their  anathemas 
against  you,  and  execrate  you  as  their 
most  dangerous  enemy.  And  yet  you 
ask  me  if  I  am  an  adherent  of  that 
Church  which  calumniates  and  condemns 
you  !  You  ask  me  if  I  believe  in  the  pope, 
who  has  excommunicated  the  king — 
the  king  who  is  not  only  my  sovereign 
and  supreme  ruler,  but  also  the»husband 
of  my  noble  and  generous  Katharine ! 
I  fear  your  majesty  can  scarcely  love  me, 
in  asking  such  a  question." 

And,  as  if  overcome  by  her  emotion, 
Lady  Jane  sank  down  at  Katharine's 
feet,  and  hid  her  face  in  the  ample  folds 
of  the  queen's  robe. 

Katharine  stooped  to  raise  her  up  and 
embrace  her.  Suddenly,  however,  she 
started,  and  a  deadly  paleness  overspread 
her  countenance. 

"  The  king!  "  she  whispered.  "The 
king  comes  this  way!  " 


CHAPTER  HI. 

KING  HENRY   THE  EIGHTH. 

KATHARINE  was  not  mistaken.  The 
doors  opened,  and  the  earl-marshal  ap- 
peared upon  the  threshold  with  his  gold 
staff  of  office. 

"Hie  majesty  the  king!"  said  the 
marshal,  in  his  grave  and  solemn  tone, 
which  filled  Katharine  with  secret  hor- 


ror, as  if  sentence  of  death  had  just  been 
pronounced  against  her. 

But  she  constrained  herself  to  smile, 
and  approached  the  door  in  order  to  re- 
ceive the  king. 

A  heavy  rolling  was  now  heard,  and 
along  over  the  well-polished  floor  of  the 
anteroom  came  the  king's  in-door  equi- 
page. 

This  in-door  carriage  consisted  of  a 
large  arm-chair  mounted  upon  wheels, 
which,  instead  of  horses,  was  drawn  by 
men,  and  to  which,  from  a  kind  of  deli- 
cate flattery,  was  given  the  form  and 
shape  of  a  triumphal  chariot — such  as 
that  of  the  Roman  victorious  emperors 
of  old — in  order,  whenever  the  king 
was  drawn  about  .the  apartments  in  this 
manner,  to  maintain  the  agreeable  illu- 
sion that  he  was  making  a  triumphal 
march,  and  that  it  was  in  nowise  the 
weight  of  his  unwieldy  limbs  which 
compelled  him  to  mount  this  quasi- 
imperial  chariot.  Henry  willingly 
yielded  to  the  flatteries  of  his  courtiers, 
and  whenever  he  rode  about  in  this 
guise  through  the  gilded  saloons, 
adorned  with  Venetian  mirrors,  which 
multiplied  and  reflected  his  likeness 
from  every  side,  he  readily  lulled 
himself  in  the  illusion  that  he  was  a 
triumphal  conqueror,  and  wholly  for- 
got that  it  was  not  his  achievements 
but  his  corpulency  which  had  raised 
him  to  the  victor's  car. 

For  this  huge  mass  which  filled  the 
colossal  arm-chair — this  mountain  of 
purple-robed  flesh — this  lumbering  and 
shapeless  form,  was  Henry  the  Eighth, 
— the  king  of  happy  England. 


KING  HENRY   THE   EIGHTH. 


Bat  this  unwieldy  mass  had  a  head ! 
— a  head  fall  of  dark  and  sinister 
thoughts, — a  heart  full  of  bloodthirsty 
and  ferocious  instincts.  The  colossal 
body  was  indeed  bound  to  the  arm-chair 
by  its  own  ponderous  bulk;  yet  the 
mind  of  its  owner  never  rested,  but 
hovered — as  though  with  the  eye  and 
talons  of  an  unclean  bird  of  prey — over 
his  people, — always  ready  to  pounce 
upon  some  poor  innocent  dove,  to  drink 
its  blood,  and  tear  out  its  heart — that 
he  might  present  it,  still  quivering,  upon 
the  altar  of  his  sanguinary  god. 

The  domestic  chariot  of  the  king  now 
stopped,  and  Katharine  hastened  for- 
ward to  assist  her  royal  spouse  in  alight- 
ing. 

Henry  greeted  her  with  a  gracious 
nod,  and  ordered  the  pages  in  attendance 
to  stand  back. 

"Go  away!  "he  exclaimed,  "get  ye 
gone!  My  Katharine  alone  shall  give 
me  her  hand  here,  and  welcome  me  to 
her  bridal  chamber.  Away!  We  feel 
ourself  this  day  as  young  and  vigorous 
as  in  our  best  and  happiest  years ;  and 
the  young  queen  shall  find  that  it  is  no 
feeble,  tottering  graybeard  who  weds 
her,  but  a  hale  and  vigorous  man,  whose 
youth  has  been  renewed  by  love. — Do 
not  think,  Kate,  that  it  is  from  any 
bodily  ailment  that  I  use  this  carriage. 
No — it  was  only  my  wish  to  see  thee, 
which  made  me  eager  to  come  the  more 
speedily." 

He  kissed  her  brow  with  a  self-satis- 
fied smile,  and,  leaning  lightly  on  her 
arm,  descended  from  his  chariot. 

"  Away  with  this  carriage,  and  with 


you  all ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is  our  will 
to  be  left  alone  with  this  young  and 
beautiful  woman,  whom  my  lords  the 
bishops  have  this  day  made  our  own." 

And  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  dis- 
missed the  whole  train  of  his  courtiers, 
and  Katharine  was  now  alone  with  the 
king. 

Her  heart  beat  so  violently  that  it 
made  her  lips  tremble  and  her  bosom 
heave  with  emotion. 

Henry  perceived  it,  and  smiled;  but 
it  was  a  cold  and  grim  smile,  which 
made  Katharine  turn  pale. 

"  He  has  always  the  smile  of  a  tyrant 
upon  his  lips,"  she  whispered  to  herself. 
u  With  this  same  smile  with  which  he 
now  expresses  his  love  for  me,  perhaps 
he  yesterday  signed  a  death-warrant,  or 
to-morrow  perhaps  will  witness  an  exe- 
cution." 

u  Do  you  love  me,  Kate  ? "  suddenly 
exclaimed  the  king,  who  had  for  a  mo- 
ment been  contemplating  her  in  silent 
thought.  "  Tell  me,  Kate,  do  you  love 
me?" 

Saying  which,  he  looked  with  a  fixed 
and  scrutinizing  gaze  into  her  eyes,  as 
if  he  would  scan  the  secret  thoughts  of 
her  heart. 

Katharine  met  his  glance  with  firm- 
ness, and  without  shrinking.  She  felt 
that  the  present  moment  was  all-deci- 
sive, and  would  determine  her  whole  fu- 
ture; and  this  conviction  restored  to 
her  all  her  energy  and  presence  of 
mind. 

She  was  now  no  longer  the  timid  or 
trembling  girl,  but  the  resolute  and  de- 
termined woman,  who  was  prepared  to 


22 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


wrestle  with  Fate  for  the  greatness  and 
splendor  of  her  existence.  • 

"  Do  you  love  me,  Kate  ? "  repeated 
the  king,  while  a  cloud  seemed  gather- 
ing on  his  hrow. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  Katharine, 
with  a  smile  which  enchanted  the  king ; 
for  her  charming  features  betrayed  no 
less  graceful  coyness  than  modest  and 
winning  reserve. 

"  You  don't  know  ? "  repeated  Henry, 
with  surprise.  "  Now,  hy  God's  mother, 
this  is  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  a 
woman  has  ventured  to  tell  me  as  much ! 
You  are  a  brave  woman,  Kate,  to  give 
me  such  an  answer,  and  I  commend  you 
for  it.  I  like  bravery,  for  it  is  a  thing 
I  so  rarely  meet  with.  All  of  them 
tremble  before  me  here,  Kate — all! 
They  know  that  I  don't  shrink  from 
blood,  and  that,  secure  in  the  strength  of 
my  kingdom,  I  can  sign  a  death-warrant 
or  a  billet-doux  with  equal  composure." 

"Oh,  you  are  a  great  king!"  mur- 
mured Katharine. 

Henry  did  not  notice  this  observation. 
He  was  plunged  in  one  of  those  fits  of 
self-contemplation,  in  the  indulgence  of 
which  he  found  so  much  pleasure,  and 
which  generally  had  for  their  object  his 
own  greatness  and  glory. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  and  his  eyes 
(which,  despite  his  corpulence,  and  his 
brawny  countenance,  remained  wide 
open)  became  fiercely  animated — "yes, 
they  all  tremble  before  me,  for  they 
know  that  I  am  a  just  and  severe  king, 
who  does  not  spare  his  own  blood  when 
the  punishment  and  expiation  of  crime 
require  it ;  and  who  scourges  the  offend- 


er with  an  inexorable  hand — even  if  he 
should  be  the  nearest  to  his  throne. 
Take  care,  accordingly,  Kate — take  care. 
You  see  in  me  the  avenger  of  God,  and 
the  j  udge  of  men !  Kings  wear  purple — 
not  because  it  is  splendid  or  becoming, 
but  because  it  is  red,  like  blood,  and  be- 
cause it  is  the  highest  prerogative  of 
kings  to  be  free  to  shed  the  blood  of 
their  rebellious  subjects,  and  thereby 
expiate  the  crimes  of  the  human  race. 
It  is  thus  alone  that  I  understand  a 
monarch's  duties,  and  thus  alone  will  I 
execute  them  to  the  end  of  my  days.  It 
is  not  the  right  of  pardon,  but  that  of 
punishment,  by  which  the  sovereign  is 
distinguished  from  the  base  herd  of 
mankind.  The  th  under  of  heaven  should 
be  upon  his  lips,  and  the  king's  wrath 
should  descend  like  lightning  upon  the 
heads  of  the  guilty." 

"  But  God  is  not  only  the  angry,  but 
also  the  merciful  and  the  pardoning," 
said  Katharine,  as  she  leaned  her  head 
timidly  upon  the  king's  shoulder. 

"That  is  just  the  privilege  which  God 
enjoys  above  us  kings,"*  said  Henry ; 
"that  He  can  exercise  mercy,  where- 
as we  can  only  punish  and  condemn. 
There  must  be  some  point  in  which  God 
is  superior  to  kings. — But  how  now, 
Kate  ! — you  tremble,  and  that  sweet 
smile  has  left  your  lips.  Don't  be  afraid 
of  me,  Kate.  If  you  are  true  and  faith- 
ful to  me,  I  shall  always  love  you.  And 
now,  Katty,  explain  to  me  what  yon 
meant  by  saying  you  don't  know  if  you 
love  me." 

"No,  your  majesty — I  really  don't 
know.  How  should  I  understand  or 


KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 


designate  a  feeling  which  I  have  never 
yet  experienced  ? " 

"What!  Never  loved,  Kate?"  ex- 
claimed the  king,  with  a  look  of  joyful 
astonishment. 

"  Never,  Sire  !  My  father  treated  me 
harshly,  and  never  excited  any  sen- 
timents in  me  but  those  of  anxiety  and 
terror." 

"And  your  husband,  child — the  man 
who  was  my  predecessor  in  your  affec- 
tions. Did  you  not  love  your  husband, 
either,  Kate  ?  " 

"  My  husband  ?  "  she  asked,  musingly. 
"It  is  true  my  father  sold  me  to  Lord 
Latimer,  and  when  the  priest  joined  our 
hands  together,  people  said  he  was  my 
husband.  But  he  knew  very  well  that  I 
didn't  love  him,  and  he  didn't  even  de- 
sire that  I  should.  He  gave  me  his 
name,  as  a  father  gives  his  name  to  his 
daughter,  and  I  was  his  daughter — an 
obedient  and  dutiful  daughter,  who  ful- 
filled fcer  duties  faithfully,  and  tended 
him  to  his  death." 

"  And  after  his  death  ?  "Why,  years 
have  passed  since  that,  Kate.  Tell  me, 
I  entreat  you — tell  me  the  truth — the 
simple  truth — have  you  never  loved  any 
one  since  your  husband's  death  ?  " 

The  king  looked  at  her  with  visible 
anxiety,  eager  to  learn  her  reply,  and 
Katharine  did  not  shrink  from  his  in- 
quiring gaze. 

"Sire,"  she  replied,  with  a  charming 
smile,  "  until  within  the  last  few  weeks, 
I  have  often  lamented  my  own  fate,  and 
I  felt  as  though,  in  despair  at  my  cheer- 
less and  solitary  life,  I  ought  to  look  into 
my  bosom  to  see  if  it  contained  a  heart, 


which,  cold  and  unmoved,  had  never  be- 
trayed any  symptoms  of  its  existence. 
Oh,  sire,  I  was  full  of  anxiety ;  and  in  my 
rash  folly  I  even  blamed  Heaven  for 
having  withheld  from  me  the  noblest 
feelings  and  the  happiest  privilege  of  a 
woman — the  faculty  of  loving." 

"  You  say  it  was  so  until  within  the 
last  few  weeks,  Kate  ? "  continued  the 
king,  with  breathless  eagerness. 

"  Yes,  sire,  until  the  day  when  first  you 
did  me  the  high  honor  of  addressing  me." 

"And  since  then,  Kate,  tell  me  has 
your  heart  beat,  you  dear,  amiable  little 
dove?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  sire ;  it  beats  very  often  in- 
deed, as  if  it  would  burst.  When  I  hear 
your  voice,  when  I  see  your  face,  I  feel 
as  if  a  cold  thrill  ran  through  my  whole 
frame,  and  drove  all  the  blood  to  my 
heart.  Indeed,  my  heart  tells  me  of 
your  approach  before  I  have  seen  you ; 
for  I  then  feel  a  peculiar  nervous  and 
choking  sensation,  and  by  that  I  know 
that  you  are  drawing  near,  and  that  your 
presence  will  relieve  me  of  this  painful 
strain  upon  my  emotions.  When  you 
are  not  beside  me  I  think  of  you,  and 
when  I  sleep  I  dream  of  you ;  and  now 
sire,  you,  who  understand  all  things,  can 
tell  me  if  you  think  I  love  you." 

"Oh,  yes,  yes.  You  love  me  in- 
deed !  "  exclaimed  Henry,  to  whom  this 
sudden  and  joyous  surprise  had  im- 
parted a  glow  of  youthful  animation. 
"  Yes,  Kate,  I  am  sure  you  love  me,  and 
if  I  may  believe  your  graceful  avowal,  I 
am  also  your  first  love.  Kepeat  it  once 
more,  Kate!  You  were  nothing  more 
than  a  daughter  to  Lord  Neville  ? " 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS  COUET. 


"Nothing  more,  sire!" 

"And  after  him  you  had  no  other 
lover?" 

"None,  sire." 

"Then  I  am  about  to  see  realized  a 
singular  miracle.  Can  it  be  true  that  I 
have  not  taken  a  widow,  but  a  youthful 
maiden,  for  my  queen  ? " 

As  he  now  looked  at  her  with  a 
glance  of  glowing  and  passionate  affec- 
tion, Katharine  modestly  cast  down  her 
eyes,  and  a  deep  blush  suffused  her 
beautiful  countenance. 

"  Oh,  what  a  precious  sight  is  a 
woman  who  blushes  from  modesty  and 
reserve !  "  exclaimed  the  king,  while 
he  pressed  Katharine  violently  to  his 
breast ;  "  what  foolish,  short-sighted  be- 
ings we  all  are — even  we  kings!  In 
order  not  to  be  obliged  perchance  to 
hand  over  my  sixth  wife  to  the  scaffold, 
I  chose,  in  anxious  misgiving  of  the 
flagrant  inconstancy  of  your  sex,  a 
widow  for  my  queen ;  and  now  this 
widow  mocks  the  new  decree  of  Parlia- 
ment with  a  blissful  avowal,  and  realizes 
for  me  what  she  did  not  promise.  Come, 
Kate,  a  kiss  for  all  this !  You  have  to- 
day opened  before  me  a  happy  future, 
and  prepared  a  joyful  surprise,  which  I 
did  not  anticipate.  I  thank  thee,  Kate, 
and  I  swear,  by  God's  mother,  that  I  will 
never  forget  thee  for  this !  " 

And,  taking  from  his  finger  a  costly 
ring,  which  he  placed  upon  the  finger  of 
Katharine,  he  continued:  "Let  this  ring 
be  a  memento  of  the  present  hour,  and 
if  ever  you  should  present  it  to  me  with 
a  request,  I  will  grant  it,  Katy !  " 

He  kissed  her  affectionately,  and  was 


about  to  draw  her  more  closely  to  his 
side,  when  suddenly  there  was  heard 
without  the  roll  of  drums  and  the  ringing 
of  bells. 

The  king  started  for  a  moment,  and  re- 
laxed his  hold  of  Katharine.  He  listened. 
The  sound  of  the  drums  continued ;  and 
from  time  to  time  there  arose  in  the  dis- 
tance the  peculiar  hoarse  murmur  which 
resembles  the  surging  of  a  troubled  sea, 
and  which  can  only  be  produced  by  a 
vast  concourse  of  people. 

With  a  fierce  oath  the  king  pushed 
open  the  glass  door  leading  to  the  balcony, 
and  stepped  forward. 

Katharine  looked  after  him  with  a  half- 
timid,  half-angry  glance.  "I  have  not 
told  him  at  least  that  I  love  him,"  she 
murmured.  "He  has  interpreted  my 
words  as  it  pleased  his  vanity.  Well 
and  good.  I  won't  die  upon  the  scaf- 
fold!" 

With  a  firm  step,  and  with  a  resolute 
and  energetic  bearing,  she  followed  the 
king  to  the  balcony. 

Still  the  roll  of  the  drums  continued, 
and  the  bells  rang  out  from  all  the  towers. 

The  night  was  gloomy  and  dull,  and 
the  dim  outlines  of  the  houses  rose  like 
so  many  tombs  amidst  the  murky  dark- 
ness around. 

Suddenly  the  horizon  became  illu- 
mined—the sky  was  streaked  with  a  dull, 
reddish  glare,  which  rose  higher  and 
higher,  until  it  seemed  to  inflame  the 
whole  firmament  with  its  fiery  glow, 
which  was  again  reflected  in  purple 
gleams  upon  the  balcony  where  the  royal 
couple  stood. 

Still  the  bells  continued  to  peal  forth, 


KING  HENRY  THE  EIGHTH. 


and  at  intervals  was  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance a  wild,  piercing  yell,  mingling  with 
the  uproar  as  of  ten  thousand  voices. 

Suddenly  the  king  turned  round  to 
Katharine,  and  his  face,  which  was  lit 
up  by  the  fiery  reflection;  as  if  covered 
by  a  blood-red  veil,  now  assumed  an  ex- 
pression of  demoniac  joy. 

"Ah!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  now  per- 
ceive what  it  is.  You  had  quite  confused 
me,  you  little  enchantress,  and  I  had  for- 
gotten for  the  moment  that  I  was  a  king, 
from  my  wish  to  be  nothing  but  your 
lover.  But  now  I  am  reminded  once 
more  of  my  right  of  punishing,  as  a  ruler. 
Those  are  the  fagots  of  the  stake  which 
blaze  up  so  lustily  yonder;  and  that 
shouting  and  uproar  signifies  that  my 
merry  subjects  are  enjoying  the  comedy 
which  I  have  caused  to  be  played  before 
them  to-day — to  the  honor  of  God  and 
of  my  unassailable  dignity  as  king." 

"The  stake!"  exclaimed  Katharine, 
trembling  with  horror.  "Does  your 
majesty  mean  that  human  beings  are 
about  to  die  a  fearful  and  revolting 
death ;  that  at  the  moment  when  you 
express  yourself  a  happy  and  contented 
king,  there  are  some  of  your  subjects 
about  to  be  condemned  to  a  horrible 
martyrdom?  Oh,  no,  your  majesty  will 
not  obscure  your  queen's  wedding-day 
by  such  a  gloomy  death-cloud.  You  will 
not  be  so  cruel  as  thus  to  dim  my  hap- 
piness." 

The  king  laughed.  "No,  I  will  not 
dim  it,  but  on  the  contrary  I  will  light 
it  up  with  a  good  blaze,"  he  replied  ;  and 
pointing  to  the  glowing  sky,  he  contin- 
ued :  "  Those  are  our  wedding-torches, 


Kate,  and  they  are  the  best  and  brightest 
I  could  think  of,  for  they  burn  in  honor 
of  God  and  of  the  king.  And  yonder 
flame,  which  shoots  up  to  the  skies  and 
bears  away  the  souls  of  the  heretics,  will 
give  the  Almighty  joyful  tidings  of  His 
most  faithful  and  devoted  son,  who,  even 
on  the  day  of  his  happiness,  does  not 
forget  his  kingly  duties,  but  always  con- 
tinues to  be  the  scourging  and  scathing 
servant  of  the  God  of  hosts." 

At  this  moment  his  look  was  terrible 
His  face,  which  glowed  with  the  fiery 
glare,  wore  a  threatening  and  ferocious 
expression;  his  eyes  shot  forth  flam 
and  a  cold,  cruel  smile  played  round  h 
thin,  compressed  lips. 

"  Oh,  he  knows  no  pity,"  murmured 
Katharine  to  herself,  while  she  stared 
with  a  shudder  of  astonishment  at  the 
king,  who  was  looking  with  fanatical 
fervor  toward  the  flames,  into  which, 
perhaps  at  that  moment,  a  wretched 
creature  was  being  flung  at  his  com- 
mand. "  No,  he  knows  no  pity,  and  no 
mercy !  " 

Henry  now  turned  round  to  her,  and 
laying  his  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder, 
he  spanned  her  slender  neck  with  his 
fingers,  whispering  at  the  same  time 
tender  words  and  promises  in  her  ear. 

Katharine  trembled.  These  caresses  of 
the  king,  however  harmless  they  might 
be,  had  in  them  something  dismal  and 
repulsive.  It  was  the  involuntary  and 
instinctive  touch  of  the  executioner, 
who  examines  the  neck  of  his  victim,  to 
fix  upon  the  spot  where  he  shall  strike. 

Thus  had  Anne  Bullen,  the  king's 
second  wife,  once  put  her  delicate  tin- 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


gers  round  her  own  fair  neck,  and  said 
to  the  headsman,  brought  from  Calais 
for  the  occasion,  u  I  pray  you  strike  a 
sure  blow.  You  see  I  have  but  a  very 
slender  neck." 

Thus  had  Henry  clutched  the  neck  of 
Katharine  Howard,  his  fifth  wife,  when 
satisfied  of  her  infidelity,  and  when 
clinging  to  him  entreatingly,  he  flung 
her  from  him  with  wild  imprecations. 
The  marks  of  his  talons  were  still  visible 
on  her  neck  when  she  laid  it  upon  the 
block. 

And  now  Katharine  Parr  must  regard 
this  ominous  act  as  a  caress,  at  which 
*    she  is  obliged  to  smile,  and  which  she 
must  needs  receive  with  all  the  appear- 
ance of  joy. 

While  thus  spanning  her  neck,  he  bent 
his  face  close  to  her  cheek,  and  whis- 
pered words  of  affection  in  her  ear. 

But  Katharine  paid  no  heed  to  his 
ardent  whisperings.  She  saw  nothing 
but  the  blood-red,  fiery  decree  in  the 
skies.  She  heard  nothing  but  the  dole- 
ful cries  of  the  unhappy  victims. 

"  Pardon !  pardon !  "  she  stammered. 
"  Oh.  let  this  day  be  a  day  of  rejoicing 
for  all  your  subjects.  Be  merciful,  and 
if  I  am  to  believe  that  you  really  love 
me,  grant  me  the  first  request  which  I 
shall  ask  you.  Grant  me  the  lives  of 
these  unhappy  victims.  Mercy,  sire, 
mercy !  " 

And  as  if  the  prayer  of  the  .queen  had 
found  an  echo,  there  was  suddenly 
heard  from  the  adjoining  room,  a  woe- 
stricken  and  despairing  cry  of,  "  Pardon, 
sire,  pardon !  " 

The  king  turned  round  angrily,  and 


his  brow  assumed  a  severe  and  lower- 
ing expression.  He  looked  inquiringly 
at  Katharine,  as  though  he  would  dis- 
cover, from  her  features,  if  she  knew 
who  dared  to  disturb  their  conversation. 
But  Katharine's1  face  betrayed  undis- 
sembled  surprise.  "  Pardon,  pardon !  " 
repeated  the  voice  from  the  adjoining 
apartment. 

The  king  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
anger,  and  retired  hastily  from  the  bal- 
cony. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ZING   BY   THE   WEATH    OF    GOD. 

"  WHO  dares  to  disturb  us  ? "  ex- 
claimed the  king,  returning  with  im- 
petuous steps  to  the  room.  "Who 
dares  to  speak  of  mercy  ?  " 

"  I  dare  it,  sire !  "  said  a  young  lady, 
who,  with  pale  and  haggard  features, 
now  advanced  in  a  state  of  fearful  agita- 
tion toward  the  king,  and  flung  herself 
at  his  feet. 

"  Maria  Askew !  "  exclaimed  Katha- 
rine, with  astonishment.  "  What  brings 
you  here,  Maria  ?  " 

"I  want  pardon — pardon  for  those 
unhappy  beings  who  are  suffering  yon- 
der! "  cried  the  young  maiden,  with  a 
terror-stricken  look,  while  she  pointed 
toward  the  lurid  conflagration  without. 
"  I  want  mercy  for  the  king  himself, 
who  so  cruelly  sends  the  noblest  and  the 
best  of  his  subjects,  like  so  many  sheep, 
to  the  slaughter." 


KING  BY  THE   WRATH  OF  GOD. 


"  Oh,  sire,  have  pity  on  this  poor 
child !  "  exclaimed  Katharine,  turning 
toward  the  king — "pity  for  her  en- 
thusiasm and  youthful  ardor.  She  is 
unaccustomed  to  these  terrible  scenes; 
she  does  not  yet  know  that  it  is  the  sad 
duty  of  the  king  to  be  obliged  to  punish, 
where  she  would  probably  have  mercy." 

Henry  smiled,  but  the  look  which  he 
cast  at  the  young  kneeling  maiden 
made  Katharine  tremble — for  this  look 
revealed  a  death-warrant. 

"Maria  Askew,  if  I  mistake  not,  is 
your  second  maid  of  honor  ?  "  asked  the 
king,  "  and  it  was  at  your  express  wish 
that  she  took  this  position  ? " 

"  Yes,  sire." 

"  You  knew  her,  therefore  ?  " 

"No.  sire.  I  saw  her  a  few  days 
since  for  the  first  time.  But  her  ap- 
pearance and  manner  quite  won  my 
good  opinion,  and  I  feel  that  I  shall  love 
her  as  a  friend ;  be  therefore  indulgent, 
sire." 

But  the  king  still  continued  in  moody 
thought,  and  Katharine's  answer  by  no 
means  satisfied  him. 

"  Then  why  did  you  interest  yourself 
for  this  young  lady  if  you  did  not  know 
her?" 

"She  had  been  so  strongly  recom- 
mended to  me." 

"Who  did  so?" 

Katharine  hesitated  for  a  moment; 
she  felt  that  in  her  zeal  she  had  perhaps 
gone  too  far,  and  that,  probably,  it  was 
incautious  on  her  part  to  have  told  him 
the  whole  truth.  But  the  king's  firm 
and  penetrating  glance  rested  upon  her, 
and  she  remembered  that  he  had,  only 


this  evening,  strictly  and  solemnly  en- 
joined her  always  to  tell  him  the  truth. 
Besides,  it  was  on  secret  at  court  who 
the  protector  of  this  young  maiden  was, 
and  who  had  been  the  means  of  her  re- 
ceiving the  place  of  one  of  the  queen's 
maids  of  honor — a  position  which  so 
many  noble  families  had  sought  in  vain 
to  procure  for  then*  own  daughters. 

"Who  recommended  this  lady  to 
you?"  repeated  the  king,  while  his 
growing  ire  already  began  to  flush  his 
face  and  make  his  voice  tremble. 

"  It  was  Archbishop  Cranmer  that  did 
so,  sire,"  replied  Katharine,  raising  her 
eyes  toward  the  king  with  a  most  cap- 
tivating smile. 

At  this  moment  was  heard,  from  with- 
out, the  roll  of  drums,  which,  however, 
was  drowned  by  fearful  shrieks  of  agony 
and  cries  of  anguish.  The  flames  now 
rose  higher  and  higher,  and  in  their 
fierce  and  murderous  fury  illuminated  the 
skies  all  around. 

Maria  Askew,  who  during  the  collo- 
quy of  the  royal  pair,  had  stood  aloof  in 
respectful  silence,  now  felt  herself  over- 
powered by  this  fearful  sight,  and  de- 
prived of  her  remaining  presence  of 
mind. 

"  Merciful  God !  "  she  exclaimed,  trem- 
bling as  if  with  an  inward  shudder, 
while  her  hands  were  extended  beseech- 
ingly toward  the  king,  "Do  you  not 
hear  the  cries  of  those  unhappy  victims  ? 
I  conjure  you,  sire,  as  you  shall  remem- 
ber the  hour  of  your  death,  and  the  day 
of  judgment,  to  have  mercy  upon  those 
wretched  beings.  As  least  do  not  suffer 
them  to  be  flung  alive  into  the  flames. 


28 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


Oh,  spare  them,  sire,  from  this  fearful 
martyrdom !  " 

Henry  cast  an  angry  glance  at  the 
prostrate  girl,  and  strode  past  her, 
toward  the  door  comnmnicating  with  the 
anteroom,  where  the  King's  attendants 
awaited  his  commands. 

He  beckoned  to  the  two  bishops, 
Cranmer  and  Gardiner,  to  approach,  and 
commanded  the  servants  to  throw  the 
doors  of  the  apartment  wide  open. 

The  scene  now  presented  a  strange 
and  animated  spectacle ;  and  the  queen's 
chamber,  previously  so  still,  became  of 
a  sudden  the  theatre  of  a  great  drama, 
which  would  probably  end  in  blood. 
The  principal  personages  of  this  drama 
were  now  assembled  in  the  small  but 
,  luxuriously  decorated  sleeping-apartment 
of  the  queen. 

The  king  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  attired  in  his  gold-embroidered 
robes,  and  covered  with  precious  stones, 
which  blazed  resplendent  with  the  light 
from  the  chandelier.  Beside  him  was 
the  young  queen,  whose  beautiful  and 
amiable  countenance  was  turned  toward 
the  king  with  a  look  of  the  deepest  anx- 
iety, and  who  strove  to  read  in  the  stern 
and  glowering  features  of  her  royal  hus- 
band the  issue  of  this  scene. 

At  a  short  distance  from  the  queen 
still  knelt  the  youthful  Maria  Askew, 
with  her  face  bathed  in  tears,  which  she 
concealed  with  her  hands; — whilst  in 
the  background  were  the  bishops,  who 
contemplated  the  spectacle  before  them 
with  grave  and  unmoved  composure. 
Through  the  open  doors  of  the  adjoining 
apartment  were  seen  the  eagerly-strained 


features  of  a  host  of  courtiers  crowded 
together  at  the  door-way,  whilst  on  the 
opposite  side,  through  the  open  window 
of  the  balcony,  might  be  seen  the  glow- 
ing skies — while  the  sound  of  bells  and 
drums,  mingling  with  the  yells  of  the 
populace  and  the  shrieks  of  woe  and  de- 
spair, resounded  along  the  air. 

A  deep  silence  ensued,  and  when  the 
king  spoke,  the  tones  of  his  voice  were 
so  harsh  and  chilling,  that  an  involun- 
tary shudder  ran  through  all  those 
around  him. 

"My  lords  of  Canterbury  and  Win- 
chester," said  the  king,  "  we  have  sum- 
moned you,  in  order  that  by  the  force 
of  your  prayers,  and  the  wisdom  of 
your  speech,  ye  may  rescue  this  young 
maiden  from  the  devil,  who,  without 
doubt,  has  power  over  her,  for  she  dares 
to  accuse  her  king  of  cruelty  and  injus- 
tice." 

The  bishops  approached  the  prostrate 
girl;  they  each  of  them  stooped  down 
and  laid  their  hands  upon  her  shoulder 
— but  each  with  a  very  different  expres- 
sion of  countenance. 

That  of  Cranmer  was  mild,  but  reso- 
lute, and  a  compassionate  and  encourag- 
ing smile  played  around  his  lips. 

Gardiner's  features,  on  the  contrary, 
betrayed  an  expression  of  cruel  and 
cold-blooded  irony,  and  the  smile  which 
sat  upon  his  large,  gaping  mouth,  was 
that  of  the  exultant  and  pitiless  priest, 
who  is  ready  to  present  a  victim  to  his 
deities. 

Cl  Courage,  daughter — courage  and  dis- 
cretion ! "  whispered  Cramner. 

"  The  God  who  blesses  the  righteous, 


KING   BY   THE   WRATH   OF   GOD. 


and  who  punishes  and  crushes  the 
wicked,  be  with  thee,  and  with  us  all !  " 
said  Gardiner. 

But  Maria  Askew  shrank  back  from 
his  touch,  and  pushed  his  hand  violent- 
ly from  her  shoulder. 

"  Touch  me  not !  You  are  the  execu- 
tioner of  those  poor  creatures  yonder !  " 
she  exclaimed,  with  scornful  accents; 
and  turning  once  more  to  the  king,  she 
besought  him,  with  outstretched  hands, 
to  have  mercy  upon  the  suffering  vic- 
tims. 

"  Mercy  ? "  repeated  the  king.  "  Mer- 
cy? And  for  whom?  Who  are  those 
that  are  yonder  undergoing  the  penalty 
of  their  own  crimes?  Pray,  my  lord 
bishop,  who  are  the  persons  who  have 
this  day  been  sent  to  the  stake  ?  What 
are  those  malefactors  ?  " 

"They  are  heretics,  who  hold  the 
views  lately  brought  over  from  Ger- 
many, and  who  have  the  hardihood  to 
deny  the  supremacy  of  our  lord  the 
king,"  said  Gardiner. 

"  They  are  Catholics,  who  regard  the 
Pope  of  Rome  as  the  head  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church,  and  who  recognize  none 
other  but  him,"  said  Cranmer. 

"  You  see,  my  lords !  "  exclaimed  the 
king,  "  this  girl  accuses  us  of  injustice, 
and  yet  ye  say  it  is  not  heretics  only 
who  are  expiating  their  crimes  yonder, 
but  also  Catholics.  It  appears  to  me, 
therefore,  that  we  have  acted  with  our 
usual  justice  and  impartiality  by  haiid- 
ing  over  the  malefactors  on  both  sides 
to  the  hands  of  the  executioner." 

"  Oh,  had  you  seen  what  I  have  seen," 
cried  Maria  Askew,  with  a  shudder, 


"  you  would  strain  your  whole  energy 
to  pronounce  the  single  word,  Mercy. 
And  this  word  you  would  make  heard 
from  this  spot  to  that  terrible  place  of 
agony  and  horror." 

"  What,  then,  did  you  see  ?  "  said  the 
king,  with  a  grim  smile. 

Meanwhile,  Maria  Askew  had  stood 
erect,  and  her  tall  and  slender  figure 
presented  a  striking  contrast  to  the  dark 
forms  of  the  bishops  on  either  side.  Her 
eyes  were  wide  open  and  fixed,  and  her 
noble  and  gentle  features  wore  an  ex- 
pression of  horror  and  dismay. 

"I  saw  a  woman  being  led  to  the 
scaffold,"  she  said,  "not  a  malefac- 
tress,  but  a  noble  lady,  into  whose  lofty 
and  dignified  mind  a  thought  of  treason 
or  crime  had  never  entered,  but  who, 
true  to  her  faith  and  her  convictions, 
will  not  forswear  the  God  whom  she 
serves.  As  she  walked  through  the 
crowd,  it  seemed  as  if  a  glory  shone 
around  her  head,  and  her  white  hair 
glistened  like  silver.  All  the  people 
bowed  before  her,  and  even  the  most 
hardened  men  wept  at  the  fate  of  this 
unhappy  woman,  who  had  outlived 
seventy  years,  and  who  was  not  suffered 
at  length  to  die  upon  her  bed,  but  was 
offered  as  a  victim  to  the  honor  of  God, 
and  of  the  king.  But  she  only  smiled, 
and  gently  greeted  the  weeping  and  sob- 
bing multitude.  She  mounted  the  scaf- 
fold, as  if  she  were  going  to  ascend  a 
throne,  to  receive  the  homage  of  her 
subjects.  Two  years'  confinement  in  a 
dungeon  had  made  her  cheeks  pale,  but 
it  had  not  succeeded  in  dimming  the  firo 
of  her  eyes,  or  destroying  the  strength 


30 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


of  her  spirit;  seventy  years  had  not 
bowed  her  neck,  or  broken  her  courage. 
She  mounted  the  scaffold  with  a  firm 
step,  and  greeting  the  people  once  more, 
said  she  would  pray  to  God  for  them  in 
a  better  world.  But  when  the  execu- 
tioner approached  her,  and  sought  to 
bind  her  hands,  and  make  her  kneel 
down  in  order  to  lay  her  head  upon  the 
block,  she  would  not  suffer  it,  and  angri- 
ly pushed  him  aside.  *  It  is  only  traitors 
and  criminals  that  lay  their  heads  upon 
the  block ! 1  she  exclaimed,  with  a  loud 
voice.  '  It  is  not  for  me  to  do  so,  and 
as  long  as  I  have  breath  in  my  body  I 
will  not  submit  myself  to  your  blood- 
thirsty laws.  Take  my  life,  therefore,  if 
you  can.'  And  now  began  a  scene 
which  filled  the  heart  of  every  spectator 
with  horror  and  consternation.  The 
countess  ran  about  the  scaffold  like  a 
poor  hunted  deer  worried  by  the 
hounds ;  her  white  hair  fluttered  in  the 
wind,  and  her  dark  robes  of  death  swept 
around  her  figure  like  a  murky  cloud ; 
while  the  headsman  in  his  blood-red 
garments  pursued  her  with  uplifted  axe 
— endeavoring  to  aim  his  deadly  blow — 
which  she  sought  to  evade.  But  at 
length  "her  resistance  grew  feebler.  The 
strokes  of  the  axe  had  reached  her  body, 
until  she  became  bathed  in  her  own 
blood,  and  grew  faint  from  exhaustion. 
With  a  heart-rending  shriek  she 
swooned  away.  But  by  her  side,  like- 
wise overcome,  sank  the  headsman  cov- 
ered with  perspiration.  The  terrible 
chase  had  lamed  his  arm  and  exhausted 
Lis  strength.  Panting  and  breathless, 
he  was  now  unable  to  drag  this  poor 


bleeding  and  insensible  woman  to  the 
block,  or  to  lift  the  axe  to  cut  off  her 
venerable  head.  The  crowd  yelled  with 
horror  and  disgust,  while  some  wept 
and  prayed  aloud  for  mercy,  and  the 
high- sheriff  himself  could  scarcely  re- 
frain from  tears.  He  ordered  that  the 
fearful  work  should  be  delayed  until  the 
countess  and  the  executioner  had  recov- 
ered themselves ;  for  it  was  not  a  dying, 
but  a  living  woman,  that  was  to  suffer 
according  to  the  sentence  of  the  law. 
The  countess  lay  at  full  length  upon  the 
scaffold,  while  cordials  were  applied  to 
restore  her.  The  headsman  swallowed 
large  draughts  of  brandy,  in  order  to 
revive  his  strength  for  the  work  of  death, 
while  the  crowd  turned  round  to  the 
stakes,  which  were  piled  up  on  either 
side  of  the  scaffold,  and  at  which  four 
other  victims  were  about  to  be  burned. 
But  I  fled  hither  to  implore  your  ma- 
jesty for  mercy.  And  now,  sire,  behold 
me  at  your  feet.  There  is  still  time. 
Mercy,  sire.  Mercy  for  the  Countess 
of  Salisbury,  the  last  of  the  Planta- 
genets !  " 

"  Mercy,  sire,  mercy !  "  repeated 
Katharine  Parr,  as  weeping  and  trem- 
bling she  clung  to  her  husband's  side. 

"  Mercy !  "  repeated  Archbishop  Oran- 
mer,  while  the  prayer  was  timidly  and- 
cautiously  murmured  by  a  few  of  the 
courtiers. 

The  king's  large  and  flashing  eyes 
glared  with  a  hasty  and  penetrating 
look  at  the  entire  assemblage. 

"Well,  and  you,  my  Lord  Bishop 
Gardiner,"  said  he,  in  a  cold,  ironical 
tone,  u  will  you  not  beg  for  mercy,  too 


KING  BY   THE   WRATH   OF 


— like  all  these  faint-hearted  petition- 
ers?" 

"The  Almighty  is  a  God  of  ven- 
geance," said  Gardiner,  solemnly,  "  and 
it  is  written  4  that  they  who  have 
sinned,  them  will  God  punish,  even  to 
the  third  and  fourth  generations.'  " 

"  And  what  is  written  shall  be  veri- 
fied !  "  exclaimed  the  king,  with  a  voice 
of  thunder.  "ISTo  pardon  for  the  evil- 
doer— no  mercy  for  the  guilty.  The 
axe  shall  fall  upon  the  neck's  of  trai- 
tors, and  the  flames  shall  consume  the 
bodies  of  heretics  and  malefactors!  " 

"Bethink  you,  sire,  of  your  exalted 
destiny,"  exclaimed  Maria  Askew,  with 
fervent  enthusiasm.  "  Consider  what  a 
lofty  title  you  have  given  yourself  in 
your  kingdom.  You  proclaim  yourself 
as  the  head  of  the  Church,  and  in  that 
character  you  desire  to  rule  and  govern 
upon  earth.  Be  gracious,  then,  sire, 
as  you  call  yourself  king,  by  the  grace 
of  God." 

"  No.  I  do  not  call  myself  king,  by 
the  grace  of  God.  I  call  myself  king,  by 
the  wrath  of  God !  "  exclaimed  Henry, 
raising  his  arm  in  a  threatening  attitude. 
"My  office  is  to  dispatch  sinners  to  God, 
and  let  Him  have  mercy  upon  them 
above,  if  He  will.  I  am  the  punishing 
judge,  and  I  judge  inexorably  and  with- 
out mercy.  Let  the  condemned  appeal 
to  God,  and  may  He  pardon  them!  I 
cannot  do  so,  nor  will  I.  Kings  rule 
but  to  chastise,  and  it  is  not  in  pity  or 
in  love,  but  in  vengeful  wrath,  that  they 
resemble  God." 

"Then  woe,  woe  to  you  and  to  us 
all !  "  exclaimed  Maria  Askew.  "  Woe 


31 


to  yourself,  King'Henry,  if  what  you  say 
be  true !  For  then  are  those  men  bound 
to  the  stake  yonder,  right  in  denouncing 
you  as  a  tyrant — then  is  the  Bishop  of 
Rome  right  in  pronouncing  you  a  dis- 
loyal and  degenerate  son,  and  in  hurling 
his  anathemas  against  you.  Then  you 
know  not  God,  who  is  mercy  and  love 
— then  are  you  no  disciple  of  the  Re- 
deemer, who  says :  *  Love  your  enemies, 
bless  them  that  curse  you.'  Woe  to  you 
I  say,  King  Henry,  if  this  be  your  un- 
happy state  of  mind,  if — " 

"  Silence,  unhappy  girl !  "  cried  Kath- 
arine Parr,  and,  drawing  the  young 
maiden  violently  away,  she  took  the 
king's  hand  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips. 

"Sire,"  she  murmured,  with  earnest 
fervor,  "  you  told  me  just  now  that  you 
loved  me.  Prove  to  me  that  you  do  so 
by  pardoning  this  poor  young  girl,  and 
exercising  forbearance  toward  her  fren- 
zied excitement.  Prove  it  to  me,  and 
allow  me  at  the  same  time  to  lead  Maria 
Askew  to  her  room  and  command  her 
to  be  silent." 

But  the  king  was  at  this  moment 
wholly  inaccessible  to  any  other  feel- 
ings than  those  of  anger  and  blood- 
thirsty exultation. 

He  repulsed  Katharine  with  apparent 
ill-humor,  and  with  his  penetrating 
glance  still  fixed  upon  the  young  girl,  he 
said  with  a  hasty  but  leaden  tdhe,  "  Let 
her  alone!  She  shall  speak  herself. 
Let  no  one  dare  to  interrupt  her." 

Katharine,  trembling  with  anxiety,  and 
her  feelings  wounded  by  the  harsh  man- 
ner of  the  king,  retired  with  a  deep  sigh 
to  one  of  the  recesses  near  the  window. 


32 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT 


Maria  Askew  had,  meanwhile,  been 
wholly  unobservant  of  what  was  passing 
around  her.  She  was  in  that  state  of 
passionate  enthusiasm  which  excludes 
reflection  and  shrinks  from  no  danger. 
At  this  moment  she  could  have  walked 
to  the  stake  with  joyful  exultation,  and 
she  almost  longed  for  this  holy  martyr- 
dom. 

"  Speak,  Maria  Askew,  speak !  "  said 
the  king.  "Tell  me  if  you  know  what 
the  countess  has  done,  for  whom  you 
beg  for  mercy — if  you  know  why  those 
four  men  have  been  sent  to  the  stake?  " 

"  Yes.  I  know  what  it  is,  King  Henry, 
by  the  wrath  of  God,"  said  the  young 
maiden,  with  impassioned  earnestness, 
"I  know  well  why  you  have  condemned 
the  noble  countess  to  the  scaffold,  and 
why  you  will  show  her  no  mercy.  She 
is  of  noble  and  royal  blood,  and  Cardinal 
Pole  is  her  son.  You  wish  to  punish  the 
son  through  the  mother,  and  as  you  can- 
not butcher  the  cardinal,  you  murder 
his  noble  mother." 

"Oh,  you  are  a  very  learned  young 
lady,"  cried  the  king,  with  a  sneering 
and  ironical  laugh.  "  You  seem  to  know 
my  most  secret  thoughts  and  purposes. 
Doubtless  then  you  are  a  good  Catholic 
since  the  death  of  the  Catholic  countess 
gives  you  such  unspeakable  grief.  In 
that  case,  you  must  at  least  acknowledge 
that  the  Bother  four  heretics  have  been 
justly  committed  to  the  flames." 

"  Heretics !  "  said  Maria,  with  anima- 
tion. "  Do  you  call  those  devoted  men 
heretics  who  for  their  conscience  and 
their  faith  have  confronted  an  ignomin- 
ious death?  Oh,  King  Henry,  woe  to 


you  if  you  condemn  such  men  as  here- 
tics !  They  alone  are  the  true  believers 
— the  real  servants  of  God.  They  have 
emancipated  themselves  from  human 
power,  and  as  they  have  disowned  the 
pope  on  the  one  hand,  so  on  the  other 
they  will  not  recognize  you  as  the  head 
of  the  Church.  God  alone,  they  main- 
tain, is  the  Head  of  His  Church,  and  the 
master  of  their  conscience,  and  who  can, 
therefore,  presume  to  call  them  male- 
factors ? " 

"  I !  "  exclaimed  Henry,  with  a  voice 
of  thunder,  u  I  presume  to  do  so.  I  say 
that  they  are  heretics,  that  I  will  root 
them  out,  and  will  trample  under  foot 
all  those  who  think  as  they  do.  I  say 
that  I  will  pour  out  the  blood  of  those 
criminals,  and  will  prepare  punishments 
for  them,  which  shall  make  humanity 
shudder  and  tremble.  God  will  reveal 
Himself  through  me  in  fire  and  blood. 
He  has  put  the  sword  of  vengeance  into 
my  hand,  and  I  shall  wield  it  to  Hia 
honor,  and,  like  St.  George,  I  will  crush 
the  dragon  of  heresy  under  my  feet !" 

And  lifting  up  his  inflamed  and 
haughty  countenance,  and  rolling  his 
fierce  and  bloodshot  eyes,  he  continued  : 
"  Hear  it  all  ye  who  are  here  present — 
no  mercy  for  heretics,  no  pardon  for 
Catholics!  I  am  he  alone  whom  our 
Lord  God  has  chosen  and  consecrated  as 
His  sovereign  executioner.  I  am  the 
high-priest  of  the  Church,  and  who 
denies  me  denies  God.  Whoever  has  the 
temerity  to  bow  to  any  other  head  of 
the  Church,  is  a  worshipper  of  Baal,  and 
kneels  to  an  idol.  Kneel  ye  all  down, 
therefore,  and  do  homage  in  my  person 


KING  BY   THE   WRATH   OF   GOD. 


33 


to  that  God  whose  vicar  on  earth  I  am, 
and  who  reveals  Himself  through  me,  in 
His  supreme  and  terrible  majesty. 
Kneel  down,  I  say,  for  I  am  the  sole 
head  of  the  Church,  and  the  high-priest 
of  the  Most  High !  " 

And  suddenly,  as  if  touched  by  an 
electric  shock,  all  those  proud  nobles — 
all  those  ladies  sparkling  with  diamonds, 
and  even  the  two  bishops  and  the  queen, 
fell  upon  their  knees  on  the  floor. 

The  king  feasted  his  eyes  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  this  spectacle  of  abasement, 
and  with  beaming  looks,  and  with  a  tri- 
umphant smile,  he  glanced  around  at 
this  assembly  of  the  noblest  of  the  land, 
thus  humbled  in  his  presence. 

Suddenly  his  eye  rested  upon  Maria 
Askew.  She  alone  had  not  bent  her  knee, 
but  stood  proudly  erect,  like  the  king 
himself,  in  the  midst  of  the  prostrate 
courtiers. 

A  dark  cloud  gathered  on  the  king's 
brow. 

"  You  do  not  obey  my  command  ?  " 
he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  looked  at  him 
with  a  firm  and  penetrating  glance. 
"No,"  she  replied,  "like  those  victims 
yonder,  whose  last  death-shriek  has 
reached  us — like  them,  I  say  to  God 
alone  belongs  honor  and  worship — He 
alone  is  the  head  of  His  Church.  If 
you  ask  me  to  kneel  before  you  as  my 
king  I  will  do  so,  but  I  will  not  bow 
before  you  as  the  head  of  the  Holy 
Church." 

A  murmur  of  amazement  ran  through 
the  assembly,  and  every  eye  was  turned 
with  consternation  and  astonishment 


toward  the  daring  young  damsel,  who 
with  a  wrapt  and  beaming  countenance 
stood  confronting  the  king. 

At  a  signal  from  Henry,  the  kneeling 
courtiers  arose,  and  in  breathless  silence 
awaited  the  terrible  scene  that  was  ap- 
proaching. 

A  pause  ensued.  The  king  himself 
was  panting  for  breath,  and  required  a 
moment  to  revive  himself  and  collect  his 
faculties. 

Not,  indeed,  that  anger  and  passion 
had  deprived  him  of  speech.  He  was 
neither  angry  nor  passionate,  and  it  was 
only  a  sentiment  of  inward  exultation 
that  obstructed  his  breathing;  exulta- 
tion at  having  found  another  victim 
with  which  he  could  allay  his  thirst  for 
blood — over  whose  torments  he  could 
gloat,  and  whose  death-sighs  he  could 
greedily  inhale. 

The  king  never  looked  more  serene 
or  cheerful  than  when  he  had  signed  a 
death-warrant.  For  then  he  felt  him- 
self in  the  full  enjoyment  of  sovereign 
power— as  the  arbiter  of  life  and  death 
over  millions  of  his  fellow-beings,  and 
this  feeling  afforded  him  a  grateful  and 
lofty  consciousness  of  his  own  dignity. 

Accordingly,  when  he"  now  turned  to 
Maria  Askew  his  countenance  was  calm 
and  serene,  and  his  voice  cordial — almost 
affectionate; 

"Maria  Askew,"  he  said,  "do  you 
know  that  the  words  you  have  just 
uttered  make  you  guilty  of  high-trea- 
son?" 

"  I  know  it,  sire." 

"  And  you  know  the  punishment  that 
awaits  traitors  ?  " 


34: 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


"  Death — I  am  aware." 

"  Death  by  fire !  "  said  the  king,  with 
quiet  composure. 

A  subdued  murmur  spread  through 
the  assembly.  Only  one  voice  ventured 
to  utter  the  word  mercy. 

It  was  Katharine — the  king's  wife, 
who  pronounced  this  single  word.  She 
stepped  forward.  She  wished  to  hasten 
to  the  king,  and  once  more  implore 
him  for  mercy  and  pardon.  But  she 
felt  herself  gently  held  back.  Arch- 
bishop Cranmer  stood  beside  her,  and 
looked  at  her  with  an  expression  of  ear- 
nest entreaty. 

"Calmness  and  discretion,"  he  mur- 
mured. "  You  will  not  be  able  to  save 
her — she  is  lost.  Think  of  yourself,  and 
of  the  pure  and  holy  religion  whose  pro- 
tectress you  are.  Preserve  yourself  to 
the  Church  and  for  the  sake  of  your  fel- 
low-believers." 

"And  must  she  die?"  asked  Katha- 
rine, her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  as  she 
looked  across  toward  this  poor,  tender 
girl,  who  with  a  smile  of  resignation 
stood  before  the  king. 

"We  may  yet,  perhaps,  be  able  to 
save  her,  but  now  is  not  the  time.  Any 
opposition  would  only  tend  to  aggravate 
the  king,  and  might,  perhaps,  impel  him 
to  throw  the  unhappy  damsel  into  the 
flames  forthwith.  Let  us  therefore  be 
silent," 

"Yes,  we  must  be  silent,"  mur- 
mured Katharine,  with  a  shudder,  as 
she  withdrew  once  more  to  the  recess 
near  the  window. 

"The  stake  awaits  you,  Maria  As- 
kew," repeated  the  king.  "No  mercy 


for  the  traitress  who  dares  to  calumni- 
ate and  contemn  her  king  1 " 


CHAPTER    V. 

THE  EIVAL8. 

AT  the  moment  that  the  king,  with  a 
voice  of  triumph,  had  pronounced  the 
doom  of  Maria  Askew,  one  of  the  king's 
gentlemen  appeared  at  the  door  of  the 
royal  apartment  and  approached  Henry. 

This  was  a  young  man  of  noble  and 
imposing  mien,  whose  proud  bearing 
contrasted  strongly  with  the  submissive 
and  shrinking  attitude  of  the  other 
courtiers.  His  tall  and  slender  figure 
was  encased  in  a  gold-embroidered  coat- 
of-mail ;  from  his  shoulders  hung  a  vel- 
vet mantle,  bearing  a  prince's  coronet 
— while  his  head,  adorned  with  dark, 
flowing  locks,  was  surmounted  by  a 
close-fitting  gold-lace  cap,  from  which 
a  long  white  plume  descended  to  his 
shoulders.  His  fine  profile  marked  at 
once  the  type  of  aristocratic  beauty ; 
his  cheeks  were  of  a  pure,  transparent 
paleness ;  and  around  his  slightly-parted 
lips  played  a  smile,  half  listless  and  half 
supercilious.  The  high-arched  brow, 
and  the  finely-chiselled  aquiline  nose, 
gave  to  his  countenance  an  expression 
at  once  daring  and  thoughtful.  The 
eyes  alone  did  not  correspond  with  the 
other  features ;— they  were  neither  list- 
less like  the  mouth,  nor  thoughtful  like 
the  brow.  All  the  fire — all  the  un- 
curbed and  haughty  passion  of  youth, 


THE   RIVALS. 


shone  forth  from  those  dark,  lustrous 
orbs.  Had  those  eyes  been  closed,  one 
might  have  Jaken  him  for  a  filase  aristo- 
crat, who  despised  the  world  at  large  ; 
but  when  his  keen  and  ever-ardent 
glance  was  revealed,  it  bespoke  at  once 
the  young  man,  full  of  daring  courage 
and  ambitious  thoughts — full  of  passion- 
ate enthusiasm  and  unbounded  pride. 

He  approached  the  king,  as  above 
stated,  and  bending  on  one  knee  before 
him,  said,  with  a  full  and  well-toned 
voice,  "  Pardon,  sire,  pardon !  " 

The  king  retreated  a  few  steps  in  as- 
tonishment, and  looked  with  amazement 
at  the  daring  speaker. 

"  Thomas  Seymour  1  "  he  said — 
"  Thomas,  thou  art,  then,  come  back,  and 
thy  first  act  is  again  one  of  indiscretion 
and  foolhardy  enterprise." 

The  young  man  smiled. 

"  Yes,  I  am  come  back,"  he  replied. 
"  That  is,  I  have  had  a  good  sea-fight 
with  the  Scots,  and  have  taken  from 
them  four  ships-of-war.  With  these  I 
hastened  hither  in  order  to  offer  them 
as  a  wedding-present  to  iny  lord  the 
king;  and  just  as  I  entered  the  ante- 
room I  heard  your  voice,  which  was 
pronouncing  a  sentence  of  death.  And 
was  it  not  natural  that  I,  who  brought 
your  majesty  news  of  a  victory,  should 
have  the  courage  to  utter  a  petition  for 
mercy,  for  which,  as  it  would  seem, 
none  of  the  noble  gentlemen  present 
could  summon  resolution." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  king,  breathing  with 
greater  freedom,  "  then  you  didn't  even 
know  for  whom,  or  for  what,  you  were 
suing  for  mercy  ?  " 


"Pardon  me,  sire,"  said  the  young 
man,  while  his  glance  was  directed  with 
an  expression  of  contempt  at  the  whole 
assembly.  "  Pardon  me.  I  saw  at 
once  who  the  condemned  person  must 
be,  for  I  saw  this  young  maiden  stand- 
ing alone  and  abandoned  by  all,  as  if 
plague-stricken,  in  the  midst  of  this 
brave  and  noble  company ;  and  you  are 
aware,  sire,  that  it  is  by  this  sign  we 
recognize  those  who  are  condemned,  or 
who  have  fallen  into  disgrace  at  court — 
that  everybody  shuns  them.  No  one 
has  the  courage  to  touch  such  lepers — 
even  with  the  ends  of  his  fingers." 

The  king  smiled. 

"  Thomas  Seymour,  Lord  Sudley,  you 
are  now,  as  ever,  thoughtless  and  hasty. 
You  sue  for  mercy  without  even  inquir- 
ing if  the  object  of  your  suit  be  worthy 
of  pardon  or  not." 

"  But  I  see  she  is  a  woman,"  said  the 
undaunted  young  man.  "A  woman  is 
always  worthy  of  pardon,  and  it  be- 
comes every  true  knight  to  protect  her, 
if  it  were  only  for  the  sake  of  offering 
his  homage  to  a  sex  so  beautiful  and  so 
helpless,  and  withal  so  noble  and  all- 
subduing.  Let  me  therefore  entreat 
your  majesty  for  pardon  for  this  young 
creature." 

Katharine  had  listened  to  the  young 
Sudley  with  a  beating  heart  and  with 
glowing  cheeks.  It  was  the  first  time 
she  had  seen  him,  and  yet  she  already 
felt  toward  him  a  lively  interest  and  an 
almost  affectionate  solicitude. 

"He  will  ruin  himself,"  she  mur- 
mured, "  he  will  not  save  Maria  Askew, 
>ut  will  only  bring  mischief  upon  him- 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


self.      O  God,  take  pity  upon  my  sad 
and  suffering  heart !  " 

She  now  fixed  her  anxious  looks  upon 
the  king,  firmly  resolved  to  exercise  her 
influence  in  favor  of  the  earl  who  had 
so  nobly  come  to  the  rescue  of  an  inno- 
cent woman — in  case  he  too  should  be 
threatened  by  the  anger  of  her  husband. 
But  to  her  surprise,  Henry's  features 
were  perfectly  calm  and  serene. 

Like  the  wild  bird  of  prey,  which,  fol- 
lowing its  instinct,  seeks  for  its  bloody 
spoil  only  so  long  as  it  is  hungry;  like 
this  bird  Henry  felt  his  appetite  ap- 
peased for  one  day.  Yonder  still  blazed 
the  fires  in  which  four  heretics  had  just 
been  burnt,  and  beside  it  stood  the  scaf- 
fold on  which  the  Countess  of  Salisbury 
had  just  been  butchered;  and  now  at 
the  present  moment  he  had  already  found 
another  victim.  Besides,  Thomas  Sey- 
mour had  always  been  his  favorite. 
His  temerity,  his  cheerfulness,  and  his 
energy,  had  always  imposed  upon  the 
king,  and,  moreover,  he  strongly  resem- 
bled his  sister,  the  beautiful  Jane  Sey- 
mour, Henry's  third  wife. 

"  I  cannot  grant  you  this  request,"  said 
the  king.  "  Justice  must  not  be  checked 
in  its  course,  and  when  justice  has  con- 
demned, mercy  must  not  belie  the  decree. 
Besides,  it  was  the  judgment  of  your 
king  which  pronounced  the  sentence. 
You  have  therefore  done  wrong  in  a 
double  sense ;  for  not  only  did  you  pray 
for  mercy,  but  you  even  accuse  the  noble 
gentlemen  here  present.  If  the  case  of 
this  girl  were  a  just  one,  think  you  she 
would  not  have  found  a  knight  to  take 
her  part?" 


"Yes,  that  I  verily  believe,"  said  the 
young  earl,  with  a  laugh.  "  The  sun  of 
your  favor  has  already  turned  aside  from 
this  poor  maiden,  and  therefore  the 
cavaliers  of  your  court  no  longer  see  the 
form  that  is  shrouded  in  darkness." 

"  You  are  in  error,  my  lord — I  have 
seen  her,"  suddenly  exclaimed  a  voice, 
and  a  second  cavalier  advanced  from  the 
antechamber  into  the  royal  apartment. 
He  approached  the  king,  and  bending  on 
his  knee  before  him,  said  in  a  low,  but 
firm  tone : 

"  I  too,  sire,  beg  for  mercy  for  Maria 
Askew." 

At  this  moment  was  heard  a  faint 
scream  from  the  side  on  which  the 
ladies  stood,  and  the  pale  and  terrified 
countenance  of  Lady  Jane  Douglas  was 
raised  for  an  instant  above  the  heads  of 
the  other  ladies  around  her. 

But  this  exclamation  passed  unob- 
served. All  eyes  were  directed  toward 
the  group  in  the  centre  of  the  room — 
all  looked  with  strained  eagerness  at  the 
king,  and  at  the  two  young  men  who 
dared  to  intercede  for  one  whom  the 
king  had  condemned. 

"  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey !  " 
exclaimed  the  king,  and  now  an  expres- 
sion of  anger  was  depicted  in  his  counte- 
nance. "  How  is  this — do  you,  too, 
venture  to  intercede  for  this  girl — will 
you  not  allow  Thomas  Seymour  to  be 
the  most  indiscreet  and  rash  man  at  my 
court?"  y, 

"I  will  not  allow  him,  sire,  to  think 
that  he  is  the  most  courageous,"  replied 
the  young  nobleman,  darting  at  Seymour 
a  look  of  haughty  defiance,  which  the 


THE  RIVALS. 


37 


latter  returned  with  a  smile  of  cold  con- 
tempt 

4'0h,"  said  he  with  a  sneer,  "I  allow 
you  freely,  my  dear  Lord  Surrey,  to  fol- 
low my  footsteps,  on  the  path  which  I 
have  already  explored  at  the  risk  of  my 
life.  You  saw  that  I  did  not  lose  my 
head  in  this  rash  enterprise — and  this 
has  doubtless  emboldened  you.  How- 
ever, it  affords  a  new  proof  of  your  dis- 
creet bravery,  my  worthy  Lord  Surrey, 
and  yon  deserve  my  praise  on  that  ac- 
count" 

The  blood  of  the  noble  earl  mounted 
to  his  cheek ;  his  eyes  darted  fire,  and, 
trembling  with  rage,  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  sword. 

"  Praise      from     Thomas    Seymour 

is—" 

"  Peace !  "  cried  the  king  in  a  tone  of 
authority.  "  It  shall  not  be  said  that 
two  of  the  noblest  cavaliers  of  my  court 
convert  a  day,  which  for  you  all  should 
be  one  of  rejoicing,  into  a  day  of  discord. 
I  therefore  command  you  both  to  be  rec- 
onciled with  each  other.  Pledge  your 
hands,  my  lords,  and  let  your  reconcilia- 
tion be  sincere.  I,  the  king,  command 
you." 

The  young  courtiers  exchanged  looks 
of  hatred  and  suppressed  passion,  and 
their  eyes  gave  expression  to  the  words 
of  scorn  and  defiance  which  their  lips 
dared  not  utter. 

The  king  had  commanded — and  how- 
ever great  and  powerful  cavaliers  they 
might  be,  the  king  must  be  obeyed. 

They  each,  therefore,  held  out  their 
hands,  and  muttered  a  few  words  of 
little  meaning,  which  were  perhaps  in- 


tended as  an  apology,  but  which  they 
did  not  so  understand. 

"And  now,  sire,"  said  the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey, "I  venture  to  repeat  my  request. 
Pardon,  sire,  pardon  for  Maria  Askew !  " 

"  "Well,  Thomas  Seymour,  and  do  you 
too  renew  your  entreaties?  " 

u  No :  I  give  way.  The  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey protects  her.  I  retire,  for  beyond 
doubt  she  is  guilty ;  your  majesty  says 
it,  and  therefore  it  must  be  so.  It  would 
ill  become  a  Seymour  to  defend  a  person 
who  had  offended  against  her  sover- 
eign." 

This  new  and  indirect  attack  upon 
the  Earl  of  Surrey  appeared  to  make  a 
deep  but  varied  impression  upon  those 
present.  The  faces  of  some  were  s.een  to 
grow  pale,  while  those  of  others  were  lit 
up  by  a  malicious  smile.  On  the  one  side, 
words  of  menace  were  murmured ;  and 
on  the  other,  expressions  of  concurrent 
approbation  were  uttered  half  aloud. 

The  king's  brow  became  gloomy. 
The  arrow  which  had  been  shot  by  the 
skilful  hand  of  Lord  Sudleyhad  reached 
the  mark.  The  king,  ever  suspicious 
and  distrustful,  felt  his  mind  so  much  the 
more  disturbed,  at  seeing  that  the  great- 
er part  of  his  courtiers  adhered  openly 
to  the  side  of  Howard,  and  that  Sey- 
mour's friends  were  much  fewer. 

14  The  Howards  are  dangerous,  and  I 
shall  watch  them,"  said  the  king  to  him- 
self; and  for  the  first  time  his  eye 
rested,  with  a  sinister  and  hostile  ex- 
pression, upon  the  noble  countenance  oi 
Henry  Howard. 

But  Thomas  Seymour,  who  only 
wished  to  aim  a  blow  against  his  old 


38 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


enemy  of  long  standing,  had  at  the  same 
time  decided  the  fate  of  Maria  Askew. 

It  was  now  almost  impossible  to  speak 
in  her  behalf — and  to  speak  of  mercy 
would  be  to  share  in  her  guilt. 

Thomas  Seymour  had  done  with  her, 
for  she  had  made  herself  unworthy  of 
his  protection,  as  a  traitress  to  her  sov- 
ereign. 

Who  would  now  have  the  hardihood 
to  intercede  for  her  ? 

Henry  Howard  was  the  man.  He  re- 
peated his  prayer  for  mercy,  for  Maria 
Askew.  But  the  king's  brow  became 
darker  and  more  sullen,  and  the  cour- 
tiers saw,  with  terror,  the  moment  ap- 
proaching when  his  rage  would  crush 
the  poor  Earl  of  Surrey. 

Among  the  ranks  of  the  ladies,  too, 
might  be  seen,  here  and  there  faces 
growing  pale,  and  many  a  beautiful  and 
beaming  eye  was  dimmed  with  tears,  at 
sight  of  this  brave  and  generous  cava- 
lier, who  was  putting  his  life  in  jeopardy 
for  a  woman. 

"He  is  lost!"  murmured  Lady  Jane 
Douglas,  and  quite  overpowered  by  her 
emotions,  she  leaned  against  the  wall  for 
support.  But  she  speedily  recovered 
herself,  and  stood  erect,  while  her  eye 
flashed  with  resolution. 

"I  will  endeavor  to  save  him,"  she 
said  to  herself,  and  with  a  firm  step  she 
quitted  the  ranks  of  the  ladies,  and  ap- 
proached the  king. 

A  murmur  of  applause  ran  through 
the  assembly,  and  all  eyes  were  turned, 
with  an  expression  of  lively  satisfaction, 
toward  Lady  Jane. 

They  knew  that  she  was  a  friend  of 


T 

, 


the  queen,  although  not  an  adherent  of 
the  new  doctrine ;  and  it  would  there- 
fore be  very  significant  and  very  impor- 
tant if  she  should  support  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  in  his  magnanimous  efforts. 

Lady  Jane  bent  her  proud  and  beauti- 
ful head  before  the  king,  and  said  in  her 
clear,  silvery  tones  : 

"  Sire,  in  the  name  of  all  women, 
pray  for  mercy  for  Maria  Askew — for 
she  too  is  a  woman.  Lord  Surrey  has 
done  so,  because  a  true  cavalier  can 
never  disown  himself,  but  must  ever  find 
consolation  in  the  noble  and  sacred  duty 
of  being  the  protector  of  the  helpless, 
and  those  that  are  in  danger.  A  true 
gentleman  does  not  ask  if  a  woman  de- 
serves his  protection — it  is  enough  that 
she  is  a  woman,  and  needs  his  help.  If, 
therefore,  in  the  name  of  all  women,  I 
thank  the  Earl  of  Surrey  for  the  assist- 
ance which  he  wished  to  give  a  wo- 
man, I  venture  at  the  same  time  to  unite 
my  prayer  with  his — that  it  may  not  be 
said  that  we  women  are  without  cour- 
age, and  that  we  dare  not  come  to  the 
succor  of  one  who  is  in  danger.  I 
therefore  beg,  sire,  for  pardon  for  Maria 
Askew." 

"  And  I  too,  sire,"  said  the  queen,  ap- 
proaching the  king  once  more — u  I  too 
would  add  my  prayer.  This  day  is  the 
votive  day  of  love — my  festive  day,  sire. 
Let  love  and  mercy  prevail  therefore  to- 
day, for  my  sake."  She  looked  at  the 
king  while  she  spoke,  with  such  a  love- 
provoking  smile — her  eyes  had  such  a 
beaming  and  bliss-beguiling  expression 
— that  the  king  could  not  resist  her. 

In  his  heart,  therefore,  he  was  ready 


THE  RIVALS. 


39 


for  this  time  to  let  the  kingly  mercy 
prevail;  but  for  this  purpose  he  re- 
quired a  pretext — a  mediative  influence. 

He  had  solemnly  sworn  to  pardon  no 
heretic  at  the  queen's  request  alone — so 
that  he  dared  not  break  his  word. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  he,  after  a  pause, 
"I  will  grant  your  prayer;  I  will  par- 
don Maria  Askew,  if  she  will  only  recall 
and  solemnly  abjure  all  that  she  has 
said.  Are  you  satisfied  with  that, 
Kate?" 

"Yes,  I  am  satisfied,"  she  replied, 
sadly. 

"  And  you,  Lady  Jane  Douglas ;  and 
you,  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey  ?  " 

"  We  are  satisfied." 

All  eyes  were  now  once  more  turned 
toward  Maria  Askew,  who,  although 
the  assembly  had  been  occupied  concern- 
ing her,  had  been  left  unnoticed  and 
overlooked. 

She,  too,  had  taken  no  part  in  what 
was  passing  around  her,  and  scarcely  ob- 
served it. 

She  stood  leaning  against  the  open 
window  of  the  balcony,  and  gazed  at  the 
fire-glowing  horizon.  Her  spirit  was 
present  with  the  suffering  martyrs,  for 
whom  she  offered  fervent  prayers  to 
heaven,  and  whom,  in  her  fevered  en- 
thusiasm, she  envied  for  their  agonizing 
death. 

Wholly  absorbed  by  her  own  thoughts, 
she  had  neither  heard  the  entreaties  of 
those  who  interceded  for  her,  nor  the 
answer  of  the  king. 

The  touch  of  a  hand  upon  her  shoul- 
der aroused  her  from  her  fanatical  rev- 
erie. 


It  was  Katharine,  the  young  queen» 
who  stood  beside  her. 

"Maria  Askew,"  she  whispered,  "if 
you  value  your  life,  obey  the  king's  com- 
mand. There  is  no  other  means  ot 
saving  yourself." 

She  seized  the  hand  of  the  young 
maiden,  and  led  her  to  the  king. 

"  Sire,"  she  said,  aloud,  "  pardon  the 
warm  and  excited  feelings  of  this  poor 
damsel,  who  has  witnessed  an  execu- 
tion for  the  first  time,  and  whose  senses 
were  so  carried  away  by  the  scene,  that 
she  was  scarcely  conscious  of  the  foolish 
and  criminal  words  which  she  uttered 
in  your  presence.  Pardon  her  therefore, 
sire,  as  she  will  gladly  and  willingly  re- 
call her  words." 

A  cry  of  consternation  burst  from 
Maria's  lips,  and  her  eyes  flashed  wildly, 
while  she  flung  the  queen  away  from 
her. 

"  I  recall  my  words?  "  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  scornful  smile.  "Never,  your 
majesty,  never!  No.  as  God  shall  be 
gracious  to  me  in  the  hour  of  death,  I 
will  not  recant.  True,  it  was  the  pain 
and  the  horror  I  felt  that  spoke  within 
me,  but  what  I  said  was  meanwhile  the 
truth.  Horror  and  dismay  had  urged 
me  to  speak,  and  had  constrained  me  to 
reveal  the  inmost  feelings  of  my  soul. 
No,  I  will  not  recall  ray  words !  I  tell 
you,  those  who  have  suffered  yonder  as 
martyrs,  are  blessed  saints,  who  ascend 
to  meet  their  God,  and  in  His  presence 
to  accuse  their  kingly  executioner. 
Yes,  they  are  now  sainted  martyrs — 
for  Eternal  Truth  had  enlightened  their 
souls,  and  beamed  more  brightly  upon 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


their  faces  than  the  flames  of  that  fire 
upon  which  the  murderous  hand  of  an 
unjust  judge  had  flung  them.  Ah! 
recall  my  words  indeed !  Shall  I  imi- 
tate the  example  of  Shaxton,  that 
wretched  and  faithless  servant  of  his 
God,  who,  from  fear  of  a  temporal  death, 
denied  the  everlasting  truth,  and,  with 
blasphemous  cowardice,  forswore  him- 
self in  the  cause  of  his  Eedeemer? 

"  I  tell  you,  then,  King  Henry,  to  he- 
ware  of  hypocrites  and  perjurers — beware 
of  thy  own  proud  and  haughty  mind. 
The  blood  of  the  martyrs  will  cry  to 
heaven  against  thee,  and  God  will  one 
day  be  as  merciless  toward  thee  as  thou 
hast  been  toward  the  noblest  of  thy  sub- 
jects— who  are  His  creatures.  You  give 
them  over  to  the  devouring  flames,  be- 
cause they  will  not  believe  what  the 
priests  of  Baal  announce  to  them.  You 
hand  them  over  to  the  executioner,  be- 
cause they  obey  the  truth,  and  are 
faithful  disciples  of  their  Lord  and 
Master." 

44  And  you  share  in  the  sentiments  of 
t'hose  people  whom  you  call  martyrs  ?" 
said  the  king,  as  Maria  Askew  paused 
for  a  moment  to  take  breath. 

"  I  do." 

u  J  hen  you  deny  the  truth  of  the  Six 
Articles?" 

"I  do." 

"  You  do  not  recognize  me  as  the  head 
of  the  Church  ? " 

"  God  alone  is  the  Lord  and  Head  of 
his  Church." 

A  pause  here  ensued — a  fearful  and 
anxious  pause.  Every  one  felt  that 
there  was  no  hope  and  no  pardon  possi- 


ble for  this  young  maiden— that  her  fate 
was  irrevocably  sealed. 

The  king  smiled. 

The  courtiers  knew  this  smile,  and 
feared  it  more  than  the  foaming  anger  of 
the  king. 

When  the  king  smiled  in  this  manner 
he  had  formed  a  resolution,  and  then  he 
no  longer  wavered  or  hesitated ;  the 
sentence  of  death  was  decreed,  and  his 
bloodthirsty  spirit  gloated  over  a  new 
victim. 

"My  Lord  Bishop  of  Winchester," 
said  the  king  at  length,  "  come  hither." 

Gardiner  approached  accordingly,  and 
placed  himself  beside  Maria  Askew,  who 
regarded  him  with  a  look  of  scornful  dis- 
dain. 

"  I  command  you  in  the  name  of  the 
law,"  continued  the  king,  "  so  seize  the 
heretic,  and  hand  her  over  to  the  spirit- 
ual tribunals;  she  is  damned  and  lost, 
and  •shall  die  the  death  she  merits !  " 

Gardiner  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
shoulder  of  Maria  Askew.  "In  the 
name  of  God's  law  I  seize  you,"  he  said, 
solemnly. 

Not  a  word  more  was  spoken.  The 
lord  chief  justice  silently  obeyed  the 
signal  of  Gardiner,  and,  touching  Maria 
Askew  with  his  staff,  he  commanded 
his  soldi. rs  to  take  her  away. 

Maria  Askew  held  out  her  hands  with 
a  smile,  and,  with  a  firm  and  dignified 
bearing,  left  the  room,  surrounded  by 
the  soldiers,  and  followed  by  the  Bishop 
of  Winchester  and  the  lord  chief  justice. 
The  courtiers  had  opened  a  passage  for 
Maria  Askew  and  her  attendants.  Their 
ranks  now  closed  again,  like  the  waves 


INTERCESSION. 


of  the  sea,  when  they  have  engulfed  a 
dead  body  committed  to  the  deep. 

Maria  Askew  was  for  them  all  as  a 
corpse — as  one  buried.  The  waves  had 
closed  above  her,  and  all  was  again  smil- 
ing and  serene  as  before. 

The  king  gave  his  hand  to  his  young 
wife,  and,  bending  close  to  her,  whis- 
pered words  in  her  ear  which  were  not 
heard  by  the  assembly,  but  which  made 
her  tremble,  while  the  color  mounted  to 
her  cheeks.  The  king,  who  perceived 
it,  laughed,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  upon 
her  brow;  and  then  turning  to  his 
courtiers  he  said,  with  a  gracious  bow  : 

"  Now,  my  lords  and  gentlemen,  we 
will  dismiss  you,  and  say  good-night. 
The  festivities  are  over,  and  we  need 
rest." 

"  Forget  not  the  Princess  Elizabeth," 
whispered  Cranmer,  as  he  took  his  leave 
of  Katharine,  and  pressed  her  hand  to 
his  lips. 

"No,  I  will  not  forget  her,"  mur- 
mured Katharine ;  and  with  a  trembling 
heart  and  with  feelings  of  inward  anx- 
iety she  saw  them  all  depart,  and  herself 
left  alone  with  the  king. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

INTERCESSION. 

"AND  now,  Kate,"  said  the  king, 
when  all  the  company  had  departed,  and 
he  was  once  more  alone  with  her — 
"  now,  Kate,  we  will  forget  every  thing 
but  that  we  love  each  other." 

* 


He  embraced  her  and  pressed  her  pas- 
sionately to  his  breast.  She  leaned  her 
head  gently  upon  his  shoulder,  and  lay 
in  that  posture  like  a  crushed  flower, 
wholly  overcome,  and  without  the  power 
of  volition. 

"  How  now,  sweetheart — you  don't 
kiss  me,  Kate  ? "  said  Henry,  smiling.  "  I 
suppose  you  are  angry  with  me  still  for 
not  having  granted  your  first  request? 
But  what  would  you  have,  child  ?  How 
should  I  keep  the  purple  of  ray  robes 
ever  fresh  and  brilliant,  if  I  did  not  dye 
them  anew,  from  time  to  time,  in  the 
blood  of  evil-doers?  The  king  who 
punishes  and  destroys  can  alone  claim 
the  title — and  trembling  human  nature 
will  respect  him  the  more  for  it.  Man- 
kind despise  a  faint-hearted  and  forgiv- 
ing monarch,  and  laugh  to  scorn  his 
merciful  weakness.  »Bah !  they  are  mis- 
erable and  pitiful  creatures;  they  es- 
teem only  those  who  make  them  quail 
with  terror — who  daily  make  them  feel 
the  lash,  and  occasionally  scourge  a 
few  of  them  to  death.  Look  at  me, 
Kate.  Is  there  a  king  in  Europe  who 
has  reigned  longer  or  more  successfully 
than  I  have  done — or  whom  his  people 
love  more,  or  more  strictly  obey  ?  The 
reason  of  this  is,  that  I  have  already 
signed  more  than  two  hundred  death- 
warrants." 

"  Oh,  you  say  you  love  me,"  mur- 
mured Katharine,  "  and  yet  when  yon 
are  beside  me  you  speak  only  of  blood 
and  of  death.'1 

The  king  laughed.  "You  are  right, 
Kate,"  said  he,  "but  believe  me  there 
are  other  thoughts  that  slumber  in  my 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


bosom,  and  if  you  could  only  look  into  it, 
you  would  not  accuse  me  of  coldness  or 
want  of  love.  Yes,  'Kate,  I  love  my  own 
virgin  bride  truly  and  tenderly,  and  as 
a  test  thereof  you  may  ask  me  for  any 
favor  you  wisb.  Yes,  Kate,  ask  me  for 
some  favor,  and,  whatever  it  may  be,  I 
give  you  my  royal  word,  your  favor 
shall  be  granted.  Now,  Kate,  just  think 
what  can  give  you  most  happiness.  Do 
you  wish  for  jewels  or  a  mansion  by  the 
sea-side  ?  Would  y  ou  like  fi  n  e  h  orses — or 
has  any  one  perchance  oifended  you, 
whose  head  you  would  have  ?  If  that  be 
so,  Kate,  a  nod  from  me,  and  it  shall  fall 
at  your  feet.  I  am  absolute  and  all- 
mighty,  and  there  is  no  one  so  spotless 
or  innocent  that  my  will  cannot  find  a 
crime  against  him,  which  shall  cost  him 
his  head.  Speak,  therefore,  sweetheart, 
what  is  it  would  make  your  heart  re- 
joice?" 

Katharine  smiled,  despite  her  inward 
aversion  and  horror. 

"Sire,"  she  replied,  "you  have  al- 
ready given  me  so  many  jewels,  that  they 
glitter  upon  me  like  the  stars  of  night. 
Were  you  to  present  me  with  a  mansion 
by  the  sea-side,  that  would  be  to  banish 
me  from  your  presence  at  Whitehall ;  I 
will  therefore  have  no  private  residence 
for  myself.  I  only  wish  to  dwell  with 
you  in  your  palaces,  and  the  abode  of 
my  king  shall  also  be  mine." 

"  Well  and  wisely  spoken,  Kate,"  said 
the  king.  "I  shall  remember  these 
words,  if  ever  your  enemies  should  at- 
tempt to  conduct  you  to  any  other  resi- 
dence than  the  one  which  your  king  in- 
habits with  you.  The  Tower  you  know 


is  a  residence  too,  Kate,  but  I  give  you 
my  royal  word  that  you  shall  never  be 
its  inmate.  But  you  want  no  jewels — 
no  palaces !  Then  it  is  the  head  of  some 
individual  you  want  me  to  give  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  sire;  it  is  the  head  of  an  indi- 
vidual." 

"Ah!  I  had  guessed  as  much,"  said 
the  king,  with  a  laugh.  "Well,  then, 
speak,  my  little  bloodthirsty  queen.  What 
head  do  you  desire?  AT  ho  is  to  lay  it 
upon  the  block  ?  " 

"  Sire,  1  certainly  begged  of  you  the 
head  of  an  individual,"  said  Katharine, 
with  a  soft,  insinuating  tone,  "  but  not 
that  such  head  should  fall,  but  be  ex- 
alted. I  beg  for  the  life  of  an  individual 
— not  indeed  to  destroy  it,  but  to  fill  it 
with  joy  and  happiness.  I  don't  seek  to 
cast  any  one  into  danger,  but  to  restore 
a  dear  and  beloved  person  to  the  free- 
dom, the  happiness,  and  splendor  which 
are  her  due.  You  have  allowed  me, 
sire,  to  ask  a  favor  for  myself.  Well, 
then,  I  entreat  you  to  recall  the  Princess 
Elizabeth  to  your  court.  Let  her  live 
with  us  at  Whitehall.  Suffer  her  to  be 
always  near  me,  and  to  share  with  me 
my  felicity  and  splendor.  Only  yester- 
day, sire,  the  Princess  Elizabeth  was 
raised  far  above  me  in  rank,  and  if  your 
all-ruling  grace  and  power  have  elevated 
me  above  the  other  ladies  of  your  realm, 
then  I  may  venture  to-day  to  love  the 
Princess  Elizabeth  as  my  dearest  friend 
and  sister.  Grant  me  this  favor,  sire. 
Allow  the  princess  to  live  with  us  at 
Whitehall,  and  to  share  in  the  honors 
which  are  due  to  her." 

The  king  seemed  to  hesitate  for  a  mo- 


INTERCESSION. 


ment.  But  his  placid  and  smiling 
features  indicated  that  the  request  of  his 
young  wife  had  not  displeased  him.  A 
convulsive  emotion  was  visible  in  his 
countenance,  and  for  a  moment  his  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears. 

A  pale  spectral  image  doubtless  passed 
at  this  instant  before  his  mind,  and  his 
retrospective  glance  presented  to  his  im- 
agination the  beautiful  and  unhappy 
mother  of  Elizabeth,  whom  he  had  con- 
demned to  a  hapless  and  cruel  death, 
and  yet  whose  last  word  was  a  blessing 
and  a  greeting  of  love  for  him. 

He  seized  Katharine's  hand  with  emo- 
tion, and  pressed  it  to  his  lips. 

"Thank  you — you  are  unselfish  and 
magnanimous;  these  are  rare  qualities, 
and  I  shall  esteem  you  for  them.  But 
you  are  also  brave  and  courageous; 
twice  in  one  day  you  have  besought  me 
— for  one  who  was  condemned,  and  for 
another  who  had  fallen  into  disgrace. 
Those  who  are  fortunate,  and  who  stand 
in  my  favor,  have  numerous  friends ; 
but  I  have  never  seen  the  unfortunate 
or  banished  find  intercessors.  But  you 
are  different  from  these  pitiful,  cringing 
courtiers — that  fawning  and  trembling 
crowd — who  fall  down  at  my  feet,  and 
address  me  as  if  I  were  their  Lord  and 
Maker;  different,  I  say,  from  those 
wretched  and  contemptible  creatures, 
who  call  themselves  my  subjects,  and 
who  suffer  themselves  to  be  yoked  by 
me,  like  so  many  beasts  of  burden, 
which  are  useful  and  subservient  only 
because  they  are  too  brutish  to  know 
their  own  strength  and  power.  Yes, 
Kate,  believe  me,  I  should  be  a  more 


humane  and  benignant  king,  if  the 
people  whom  I  govern  were  not  such 
abject  and  stupid  dolts;  like  dogs,  in 
fact,  who  only  become  caressing  and 
affectionate  the  more  we  chastise  them. 
But  I  am  glad  to  find,  Kate,  that  you 
are  different.  You  knew  that  I  had 
banished  Elizabeth  from  my  court,  and 
from  my  heart  forever,  and  yet  you  in- 
tercede for  her;  that  is  noble,  and  I 
shall  love  you  for  it,  Kate,  and  will 
grant  your  request.  And  in  order  that 
yoU  may  see  how  much  I  love  and  trust 
you,  I  will  now  tell  you  a  secret.  I 
have  already  long  wished  to  have  Eliza- 
beth near  me,  but  I  felt  ashamed  of  this 
weakness  of  mine.  I  have  long  desired 
to  look  once  more  into  the  deep,  intelli- 
gent eyes  of  my  daughter,  to  be  to  her 
a  kind  and  affectionate  father,  and  in 
some  measure  to  make  amends  to  her 
for  the  severity  which  perhaps  I  showed 
her  mother.  For  oftentim^,  during 
sleepless  nights,  the  beautiful  face  of 
Anne  Bullen  rises  before  me,  and  gazes 
at  me  with  her  mild,  sad  looks ;  and 
then  my  heart  within  me  shudders  at 
the  sight.  But  I  dare  not  confess  this 
to  any  one,  lest  it  should  be  said  I  have 
repented  what  I  have  done.  A  king 
must  be  infallible,  like  God  himself,  and 
must  never  acknowledge  by  any  out- 
ward act  that  he  is  only  a  weak,  erring 
mortal  like  other  men.  Wherefore  I 
was  compelled  to  check  those  feelings 
of  paternal  tenderness,  which  were  sus- 
pected by  nobody,  and  to  appear  a 
heartless  parent,  since  no  one  would 
help  me  in  this  matter  to  become  an 
affectionate  father.  Ah,  those  cour- 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


tiers !  they  are  so  dull  that  they  never 
can  understand  but  the  literal  meaning 
of  our  word:  of  what  our  heart  says 
they  know  nothing.  But  you  know  it, 
Kate ;  you  are  a  woman  of  tact,  and  a 
generous  woman  to  boot.  Come,  Kate  ; 
here  is  a  kiss  from  the  grateful  father, 
and  another  from  your  husband,  my 
charming  and  beautiful  queen." 


CHAPTER  VH. 

HENEY  THE  EIGHTH  AND   HIS   WIVES. 

THE  stillness  of  night  had  now  suc- 
ceeded to  the  commotions  of  the  day, 
and  after  so  much  excitement,  festivity, 
and  rejoicing,  a  deep  repose  reigned  in 
the  palace  of  Whitehall  and  throughout 
London.  The  happy  subjects  of  King 
Henry  might,  for  a  few  hours  at  least, 
remain  undisturbed  in  their  homes ;  and, 
under  the  protection  of  bolt  and  bar, 
might  sleep  and  dream  away  the  night, 
or  else  betake  themselves  to  their  devo- 
tional exercises,  on  account  of  which 
they  had  perhaps  been  denounced  dur- 
ing the  day.  For  a  few  hours  they 
might  yield  to  the  sweet  and  blissful 
dream  that  they  were  free  men,  untram- 
melled in  their  faith  and  in  their 
thoughts — for  the  king  slept ;  and  Gar- 
diner, too,  and  the  lord  chancellor  had 
closed  their  murder-stained,  ever-watch- 
ful eyes,  and  rested  a  little  from  their 
office,  as  the  king's  myrmidons  and 
Christian  blood-hounds. 


And  as  the  king  slept,  so  slept  also 
the  inmates  of  the  court,  and  rested 
from  the  festivities  of  the  royal  wed- 
ding-day, which  in  pomp  and  splendor 
had  far  exceeded  those  of  the  five  previ- 
ous marriages. 

Meanwhile,  it  seemed  as -though  all 
the  court  officials  had  not  followed  the 
king's  example  in  betaking  themselves 
to  repose.  For,  close  to  the  chamber  of 
the  royal  couple,  one  might  perceive, 
though  all  the  windows  were  shaded  by 
rich  damask  curtains,  that  the  lights 
were  still  burning,  and,  upon  closer 
observation,  it  might  be  seen  that  a 
shadow  fell  upon  the  blinds  from  time 
to  time. 

The  inmate  of  this  chamber  had  not, 
therefore,  yet  gone  to  rest;  and  those 
must  have  been  anxious  ihoughts  which 
caused  her  to  pace  the  room,  to  and  fro, 
in  such  restless  guise. 

This  apartment  was  occupied  by 
Lady  Jane  Douglas,  the  first  maid  of 
honor  to  the  queen.  The  powerful  in- 
fluence of  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winches- 
ter, had  supported  Katharine's  wish  of 
having  once  more  near  her  the  beloved 
friend  of  her  earlier  days ;  and,  without 
suspecting  it,  the  queen  had  assisted  in 
bringing  the  schemes  of  the  hypocritical 
bishop,  directed  against  herself,  nearer 
to  their  accomplishment. 

For  Katharine  did  not  know  what  a 
change  had  taken  place  in  her  friend 
during  the  four  years  which  the  latter 
had  been  absent.  She  did  not  suspect 
how  prejudicial  a  long  residence  at  the 
strictly  Catholic  court  of  Dublin  had 
been  to  the  susceptible  mind  of  her 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  WIVES. 


early  companion,  or  how  entirely  it  had 
changed  her  nature. 

The  once  gay  and  lively  Lady  Jane 
had  become  a  strict  papist ;  who,  in  her 
fanatical  zeal,  thought  she  served  God 
when  she  served  the  Church,  and  ren- 
dered unconditional  ohedience  to  her 
spiritual  teachers. 

Lady  Jane  had  therefore — thanks  to 
the  bigotry  of  her  instructors — become  a 
complete  dissembler. 

She  could  smile,  while  in  her  heart 
she  secretly  brooded  hatred  and  revenge. 
She  could  kiss  the  lips  of  the  friend 
whose  destruction  she  had  perhaps  just 
vowed  ;  she  could  preserve  an  innocent 
and  harmless  mien  while  she  observed 
all  that  was  passing  around  her,  and 
watched  every  breathing,  every  smile, 
and  every  motion  of  the  eyelids. 

It  was  accordingly  a  matter  of  great 
moment  for  Gardiner  to  have  brought 
this  "friend  "  of  the  queen  to  court,  and 
to  have  made  of  the  fair  disciple  of  Lo- 
yola an  ally  and  a  friend. 

Lady  Jane  Douglas  was  alone;  and 
pacing  the  room  up  and  down,  she  pon- 
dered over  the  incidents  of  the  day  just 
ended. 

Now  that  no  one  observed  her,  she 
had  laid  aside  that  mild  and  demure 
mien,  which  she  was  wont  to  assume. 
Her  countenance  betrayed  in  rapid  suc- 
cession all  the  varied  feelings — whether 
sad,  serene,  impetuous,  or  affectionate — 
by  which  she  was  alternately  moved. 

She,  who  had  hitherto  had  before  her 
eyes  only  the  single  object  of  serving  the 
Church,  and  of  consecrating  her  whole 
life  to  this  purpose — she,  whose  heart 


had  hitherto  been  open  only  to  ambition 
and  devotion,  felt  on  this  day  entirely 
new  and  never-suspected  feelings  spring 
up  within  her. 

A  new  sentiment  had  taken  possession 
of  her  mind ;  the  woman  in  her  nature 
was  aroused,  and  knocked  impetuously 
at  her  heart,  around  which  fanaticism 
had  formed  an  indurated  crust. 

She  had  endeavored  to  collect  herself 
by  prayer,  and  to,  fill  her  mind  so  com- 
pletely with  thoughts  of  God  and  of  the 
Church,  that  no  earthly  wish  or  desire 
might  find  a  place  in  her  heart.  Yet, 
evermore,  the  noble  countenance  of 
Henry  Howard  would  rise  before  her 
inward  vision ;  evermore  she  thought  she 
heard  his  earnest  and  melodious  voice, 
whose  magic  tones  made  her  heart  beat 
and  tremble. 

At  first  she  had  struggled  against  this 
pleasing  phantasy,  which  suggested  to 
her  such  novel  and  singular  thoughts; 
but  at  length  the  woman  triumphed  over 
the  zealot  and  devotee,  and  sinking  into 
a  chair,  she  abandoned  herself  to  her 
dreams  and  her  fancy. 

"  Did  he  recognize  me  ?  "  she  thought 
to  herself.  "Does  he  still  remember 
that,  only  a  year  since,  we  saw  each  oth- 
er daily  at  the  king's  court  at  Dublin?" 

"But  no,"  she  continued,  musingly, 
"  he  has  forgotten  all  about  it.  All  his 
thoughts  were  then  devoted  to  his  young 
wife.  Ah  !  and  she  was  very  beautiful 
too — as  lovely  as  one  of  the  Graces! 
But  am  I  not  beautiful  also,  and  have 
not  the  noblest  cavaliers  paid  me  their 
homage,  and  sighed  for  me  in  vain? 
How  comes  it  then  that  I  am  always  over- 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


looked  when  I  fain  would  please  ?  How 
comes  it  that  the  two  men,  of  all  others, 
whose  attention  I  have  alone  coveted 
have  never  shown  me  the  preference  ?  I 
felt  that  I  loved  Henry  Howard,  but  this 
love  was  sinful — for  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
was  married ;  I  therefore  tore  my  heart 
away  by  violence  and  gave  it  to  God — 
since  the  only  man  I  could  have  loved  did 
not  desire  me.  But  even  heaven  and 
devotion  are  insufficient  to  fill  the  heart 
of  a  woman.  There  was  still  in  my 
bosom  room  for  ambition,  and  as  I  could 
not  be  a  happy  wife,  I  was  desirous,  at 
least,  of  becoming  a  powerful  queen. 
Oh !  it  was  all  so  well  calculated,  so 
skilfully  arranged!  Gardiner  had  already 
spoken  of  me  to  the  king,  and  inclined 
him  to  his  project,  and  while  I  was  has- 
tening hither  at  his  summons  from  Dub- 
lin, this  creature,  Katharine  Parr,  comes 
and  snatches  him  away  from  me,  and 
overthrows  all  our  plans.  But  I  will 
never  forgive  her  for  it.  I  shall  compel 
her  to  relinquish  a  position  which  be- 
longs to  me  ;  and  if  there  be  no  other 
means  of  doing  so,  she  shall  mount  the 
scaffold,  as  Katharine  Howard  did  before 
her.  I  am  resolved — I  shall  and  will  be 
Queen  of  England— I  will — " 

She  suddenly  broke  off  her  monologue 
and  listened.  She  thought  she  heard 
a  gentle  knock  at  her  door. 

She  was  not  mistaken;  the  knock 
was  now  repeated,  and  in  a  peculiar 
manner,  as  if  preconcerted. 

"It  is  my  father,"  said  Lady  Jane, 
and  resuming  once  more  her  calm  and 
composed  mien,  she  proceeded  to  open 
the  door. 


"  Ah !  then  you  were  waiting  for  me  ?" 
said  Lord  Archibald  Douglas,  kissing  his 
daughter's  brow. 

"  Yes,  I  was  expecting  you  every  mo- 
ment," said  Lady  Jane,  smiling.  "I 
knew  that  you  would  come,  in  order  to 
tell  me  the  result  of  your  experience 
and  observation  during  the  past  day, 
and  to  give  me  some  rules  for  my  future 
conduct." 

The  earl  reclined  upon  a  sofa,  and 
drew  his  daughter  beside  him. 

"  No  one  can  hear  us,  I  presume  ?  " 

"  Not  a  soul.  All  my  ladies  sleep  in 
the  fourth  room,  and  I  have  myself 
taken  care  to  fasten  the  doors  between 
us  and  them.  And  you  know  the  ante- 
room through  which  you  came  is  quite 
empty,  so  there  is  nothing  to  do  but 
close  the  doors  which  lead  to  that  and 
to  the  corridor,  that  we  may  be  quite 
safe  from  any  surprise." 

And  forthwith  she  hastened  to  close 
the  doors  of  the  anteroom. 

"  Now,  my  father,  we  are  safe  from 
every  listener,"  said  Lady  Jane,  as  she 
returned  and  resumed  her  seat  beside 
her  father. 

"  But  the  walls,  child — do  you  know 
if  the  walls  too  are  safe  ?  You  look  at 
me  with  doubt  and  surprise.  Dear  me, 
what  an  innocent,  unsuspecting  girl  you 
are  still !  Have  I  not  often  given  you 
the  wise  and  prudent  counsel  to  doubt 
every  thing,  and  even  to  distrust  what 
you  see  with  your  own  eyes  ?  Whoever 
would  succeed  at  court  must  first  of  all 
distrust  everybody,  and  regard  him  as 
his  natural  enemy — whom,  however,  for 
that  very  reason  he  must  flatter,  lest  he 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   WIVES. 


might  do  injury;  and  whom  he  must 
embrace,  until  at  length  he  can  find  a 
favorable  opportunity  of  putting  a  dag- 
ger to  his  breast,  or  of  holding  poison  to 
his  lips.  Believe  neither  men  nor  walls, 
Jane,  for  I  tell  you  that  both  may  seem 
ever  so  smooth  outwardly,  while  there 
may  be  an  ambush  behind  polished  ex- 
teriors. But  for  the  present  I  will  pre- 
sume that  these  walls  are  harmless  and 
conceal  no  listeners.  I  do  so  because  I 
know  this  room.  Those  were  happy 
and  delightful  days  when  I  first  knew  it. 
I  was  then  young  and  handsome,  and 
King  Henry's  sister  was  not  yet  married 
to  the  King  of  Scotland,  and  we  loved 
each  other  so  dearly !  Ah,  I  could  tell 
you  wonderful  stories  of  those  happy 
days.  I  could — " 

"  But,  my  dear  father,"  interrupted 
Lady  Jane,  secretly  trembling  at  the 
prospect  of  listening  once  more  to  the 
oft-repeated  stories  of  his  youthful  love ; 
"  surely  you  have  not  come  here  at  this 
late  hour  to  tell  me  what,  you  will  par- 
don me  for  saying,  I  know  already  quite 
well.  Rather,  you  were  about  to  impart 
to  me  what  your  keen  and  experienced 
glance  had  discovered  here." 

"  Very  true,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  pen- 
sively. u  I  know  I  am  sometimes  given 
to  garrulity — a  sure  sign  that  I  am 
growing  old.  Certainly  I  am  not  come 
to  speak  of  the  past,  but  of  the  present. 
Let  us  therefore  talk  about  it.  Ah,  I 
have  this  day  seen  much  and  learned 
much,  and  the  result  of  all  my  observa- 
tions has  been,  that  you  will  yet  be  King 
Henry's  seventh  wife." 

"  Impossible,   my    lord !  "    exclaimed 


Lady  Jane,  whose  countenance,  against 
her  will,  assumed  an  expression  of  pleas- 
ure. 

Her  father  perceived  it.  "  My  child," 
said  he,  "  let  me  remark  to  you  that  you 
have  not  always  a  perfect  command  of 
your  features.  At  present,  for  instance, 
you  are  trying  to  play  the  reserved  and 
innocent  girl,  and  yet  your  face  had  an 
expression  of  exultant  joy.  But  this  is 
only  en  passant.  The  chief  point  is, 
that  you  will  be  King  Henry's  seventh 
wife.  But  in  order  to  become  so,  you 
will  have  to  be  very  watchful  and  ob- 
servant. You  must  have  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  present  posture  of 
affairs — you  must  study  those  around 
you  incessantly — you  must  possess  the 
art  of  impenetrable  dissimulation ;  and 
finally,  and  above  all,  you  must  have  an 
accurate  and  fundamental  knowledge  of 
the  king's  character  and  disposition,  and 
of  the  history  of  his  reign.  Do  you  pos- 
sess this  knowledge?  Do  you  know 
what  it  means  to  become  Henry's  seventh 
wife,  and  what  should  be  done  at  the 
outset  in  order  to  attain  that  position  ? 
Have  you  ever  studied  the  king's  char- 
acter ? " 

"  A  little,  perhaps,  but  certainly  not 
enough.  For,  as  you  know,  my  lord, 
worldly  matters  do  not  give  me  so  much 
concern  as  those  which  relate  to  the 
Holy  Church,  to  whose  service  I  have 
devoted  myself,  and  for  which  I  would 
sacrifice  my  whole  existence,  with  every 
faculty  of  my  heart  and  soul,  if  the 
Church  herself  had  not  determined 
otherwise  respecting  me.  Ah,  my  fa- 
ther, had  it  been  permitted  me  to  follow 


48 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


my  own  inclinations,  I  would  have  re- 
tired to  a  convent  in  Scotland,  to  devote 
myself  to  silent  contemplation  and  pious 
penitential  exercises,  and  so  exclude 
every  profane  sound  that  might  disturb 
my  mind.  But  my  wishes  in  this  re- 
spect were  not  allowed ;  and  by  the 
mouth  of  His  sacred  and  venerated  priest, 
God  has  commanded  me  to  remain  in 
the  world,  and  to  take  upon  me  the 
yoke  of  greatness  and  royal  splendor. 
If,  therefore,  I  use  strenuous  endeavors 
to  become  queen,  it  is  not  because  vain 
pomp  attracts  me,  but  solely  because 
the  true  Church  would  find  support, 
through  me,  with  the  weak  and  vacil- 
lating king;  and  because  I  should  be 
able  to  lead  him  back  once  more  to  the 
only  true  faith." 

"  Very  well  acted !  "  exclaimed  her 
father,  who,  while  she  spoke,  had  been 
watching  with  a  steady  gaze  every  mo- 
tion of  her  countenance.  "  Very  well 
acted  indeed !  Every  thing  was  in  per- 
fect keeping — the  play  of  the  features, 
the  eyes,  the  voice,  and  the  gestures. 
Daughter,  I  withdraw  my  former  criti- 
cism. You  have  a  perfect  command  of 
yourself.  But  let  us  speak  of  King 
Henry.  We  will  now  subject  him  to  a 
thorough  analysis,  and  not  a  fibre  of  his 
heart,  nor  an  atom  of  his  brain,  shall  we 
leave  unscanned.  We  will  contemplate 
him  in  his  domestic,  religious,  and  politi- 
cal aspects,  and  obtain  an  accurate  idea 
of  each  of  his  peculiar  characteristics, 
that  we  may  be  able  to  frame  our  course 
with  him  accordingly.  In  the  first 
place,  then,  we  will  speak  of  his  wives ; 
their  life  and  their  death  present  excel- 


lent finger-posts  for  your  guidance,  for  I 
won't  deny  that  it  is  a  difficult  and  a 
dangerous  enterprise  to  become  King 
Henry's  wife.  In  order  to  succeed,  one 
should  have  a  good  deal  of  personal 
courage,  a  cool,  calculating  head,  and  a 
disposition  the  reverse  of  romantic.  Do 
you  know  which  of  all  his  wives  pos- 
sessed these  qualities  the  most  ?  It  was 
his  first  wife,  Katharine  of  Arragon. 
By  Heaven !  she  was  a  prudent  woman, 
and  a  born  queen !  Avaricious  as  King 
Henry  is,  he  would  willingly  have  given 
the  brightest  jewel  of  his  crown,  could 
he  but  have  found  in  her  the  slightest 
shadow  or  trace  of  unfaithfulness.  But 
there  was  absolutely  no  means  of  send- 
ing her  to  the  scaffold,  and  to  dispose 
of  her  by  poison — why,  for  that,  he  was 
then  too  virtuous  and  too  cowardly. 
He  bore  with  her  therefore  until  she 
was  becoming  an  old  woman,  with  her 
hair  turning  gray,  and  beginning  to  look 
unattractive  in  his  eyes.  Scruples  of 
conscience  suddenly  changed  the  pious 
good  king,  and  as  he  read  in  the  Bible, 
'  Thou  shalt  not  wTed  thy  sister,'  terrible 
qualms  of  conscience  seized  the  noble 
arid  wily  monarch.  He  fell  upon  his 
knees,  smote  his  breast,  and  cried,  '  I 
have  committed  a  great  sin ;  for  I  have 
married  my  brother's  wife,  who  is  my 
sister,  but  I  will  make  atonement  by  un- 
doing the  criminal  tie.'  Do  you  know, 
child,  why  he  wished  to  undo  it  ?  " 

"  Because  he  loved  Anne  Bullen,"  said 
Lady  Jane,  smiling. 

"Exactly  so.  Katharine  had  become 
old,  and  the  king  was  still  a  young  man 
and  his  blood  flowed  like  a  fiery  stream 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  WIVES. 


through  his  veins.  But  he  was  still 
somewhat  virtuous,  and  the  leading  pecu- 
liarity of  his  whole  character  still  unde- 
veloped. As  yet  he  was  not  bloodthirsty 
— that  is  to  say,  he  had  yet  tasted  no 
blood.  But  you  will  see  how  his  thirst 
for  blood  increased  with  each  succeeding 
queen,  until  it  has  now  at  length  become 
a  consuming  disease.  Had  he  known  at 
that  period  the  by-ways  of  falsehood  and 
treachery,  as  he  now  does,  he  would  have 
hired  some  slanderer  who  would  have 
sworn  that  he  had  been  the  favored  lover 
of  Katharine.  But  he  was  still  so  seem- 
ing virtuous,  that  he  wished  to  satisfy 
his  amorous  propensities  by  ostensibly 
lawful  means.  Anne  Bullen  must  needs 
therefore  become  his  wife,  in  order  that 
he  might  be  able  to  love  her.  And  for 
the  purpose  of  attaining  this  end,  he 
threw  down  the  gauntlet  to  the  whole 
world,  became  the  enemy  of  the  pope, 
and  rose  in  open  rebellion  against  the 
sacred  head  of  the  Church.  Because  the 
Holy  Father  would  not  sanction  his 
divorce,  the  king  became  a  godless  apos- 
tate. He  made  himself  the  chief  of  his 
church,  and  by  virtue  of  this  character, 
declared  his  marriage  with  Katharine  of 
Arragon  invalid.  He  alleged  that  he  had 
not  given  his  inward  consent  to  such 
marriage,  and  that  it  was  therefore  in- 
complete. Katharine  had  indeed,  in  the 
Princess  Mary,  a  living  witness  of  the 
consummation  of  their  nuptials.  But 
what  did  that  concern  the  amorous  and 
self-willed  monarch  ?  The  Princess  Mary 
was  declared  illegitimate,  and  the  queen 
was  henceforward  to  be  nothing  more 
than  the  widow  of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 


It  was  strictly  forbidden  to  designate  any 
longer  by  the  title  of  QUEEX,  the  woman 
who  for  sixteen  years  had  been  Queen 
of  England,  and  as  such  had  been  hon- 
ored and  recognized ;  or  in  any  way  to 
show  her  the  respect  due  to  the  king's 
wife.  No  one  dared  call  her  any  thing 
but  the  Princess  of  Wales;  and  in  order 
that  nothing  should  destroy  this  illusion 
on  the  part  of  the  people,  or  of  the  noble 
queen  herself,  Katharine  was  banished 
from  court,  and  exiled  to  the  palace 
which  she  had  once  occupied  as  the  wife 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

"I  have  always  considered  this  as 
one  of  the  finest  and  most  skilful  strokes 
of  policy  of  our  noble  king,  and  yet,  in 
the  whole  history  of  these  divorces,  he 
conducted  himself  with  wonderful  con- 
sistency and  decision.  But  that  shows 
he  was  incited  by  opposition  to  his  will. 
Bear  this  well  in  mind,  therefore,  my 
dear  child  (and  it  is  for  this  reason  I 
have  alluded  so  expressly  to  the  .subject) : 
King  Henry  can  in  nowise  endure  a  con- 
tradiction, or  subject  himself  to  any  out- 
ward coercion.  If  you  want  to  gain  him 
over  to  any  purpose,  you  must  seek  to 
withdraw  the  object :  it  must  be  sur- 
rounded with  difficulties  and  obstacles. 
Show  yourself  accordingly  prudish  and 
indifferent ;  that  will  attract  him :  do 
not  seek  his  glances,  and  he  will  seek 
yours.  And  when  at  length  he  declares 
his  love,  speak  of  your  virtue  and  of  your 
conscience,  until  eventually,  to  satisfy 
your  scruples,  he  sends  this  troublesome 
Katharine  Parr  to  the  scaffold,  or  does 
as  he  did  with  Katharine  of  Arragon,  and 
declares  that  he  had  not  given  his  in  ward 


50 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


consent  to  this  marriage,  and  that  con- 
sequently Katharine  is  not  a  queen,  but 
the  widow  of  Lord  Latimer.  Ah,  since 
he  made  himself  the  high-priest  of  his 
church  there  are  no  longer  obstacles  for 
him  in  such  matters — for  God  alone  is 
more  powerful  than  the  king. 

"  The  beautiful  Anne  Bullen,  Henry's 
second  wife,  is  a  proof  of  this.  I  have 
often  seen  her,  and  I  tell  you,  Jane,  she 
possessed  wondrous  beauty;  whoever 
looked  at  her  must  love  her,  and  those 
upon  whom  she  smiled,  felt  as  it  were 
under  an  enchanted  spell. 

"  When  she  presented  the  king  with 
the  Princess  Elizabeth,  I  heard  him  say 
he  then  stood  at  the  pinnacle  of  human 
happiness — at  the  goal  of  his  wishes, 
for  that  the  queen  had  borne  him  a 
legitimate  heir  to  the  throne.  But  this 
happiness  was  of  brief  duration. 

"The  king  discovered  one  day  that 
Anne  Bullen  was  not  the  most  beautiful 
woman  in  the  world,  but  that  there  were 
still  more  attractive  ladies  at  his  court, 
and  who  therefore  seemed  to  have  a  bet- 
ter claim  to  be  Queen  of  England.  He 
had  seen  Jane  Seymour,  and  Jane  was 
unquestionably  more  beautiful  than  Anne 
Bullen, — for  she  was  not  yet  the  king's 
wife,  and  an  obstacle  to  possessing  her 
intervened  in  the  person  of  Anne  Bul- 
len. 

"  This  obstacle  must  of  course  be  set 
aside.  Henry  could  now,  by  virtue  of 
his  omnipotence,  have  caused  himself 
once  more  to  be  separated  from  his  wife, 
but  he  was  unwilling  to  repeat  himself: 
he  wished  to  be  always  original ;  and 
nobody  should  dare  to  say,  that  his 


divorces  were  only  the  cloak  for  his  ca- 
pricious and  amatory  impulses. 

**  It  was  on  the  ground  of  conscien- 
tious scruples  that  he  got  himself  sepa- 
rated from  Katharine  of  Arragon — but 
a  different  plan  had  to  be  invented  for 
dealing  with  Anne  Bullen. 

"  The  shortest  way  of  getting  rid  of 
her  was  the  scaffold.  Why  should  not 
Anne  travel  the  same  path  that  so  many 
others  had  done  before  her  ?  For  a  new 
era  had  commenced  in  the  king's  life. 
The  tiger  had  licked  blood  ;  his  instincts 
were  aroused,  and  he  no  longer  shrank 
back  from  the  crimson  rivulets  which 
flowed  through  the  veins  of  his  subjects. 
He  had  bestowed  a  royal  purple  robe  on 
Anne  Bullen,  and  why  should  she  not  in 
return,  yield  him  up  her  crimson  life- 
blood  ?  For  this  there  was  only  a  pre- 
text wanting,  and  that  w  as  soon  found. 
Lady  Eochford  was  Jane  Seymour's 
aunt;  and  she  succeeded  in  finding  some 
individuals  who,  she  maintained,  had 
been  the  lovers  of  the  beautiful  Anne 
Bullen.  As  first  lady  of  the  bed-cham- 
ber to  the  queen,  Lady  Eochford 
could  certainly  furnish  the  most  plausi- 
ble explanations  upon  such  a  subject, 
and  the  king  believed  her.  He  believed 
her,  although  the  four  pretended  lovers 
of  the  queen,  who  were  executed  for  the 
alleged  crime,  protested  on  the  scaffold, 
with  one  exception,  that  Anne  Bullen 
was  innocent,  and  that  they  had  never 
even  approached  her.  The  only  one 
who  accused  the  queen  of  an  illicit  cor- 
respondence with  him,  was  a  musician, 
named  James  Smeaton.  But  for  this 
confession  he  had  been  promised  his 


HENRY  YIIL   AND   HIS  WIVES. 


51 


life.  Meanwhile  they  did  not  deem  it 
advisable  to  keep  this  promise,  for  they 
feared  that  if  confronted  with  the  queen, 
he  might  not  have  the  hardihood  to 
support  his  assertion.  In  order,  how- 
ever, not  to  appear  wholly  ungrateful  for 
this  useful  confession,  they  extended  to 
him  the  favor  of  not  being  executed  by 
the  axe,  but  he  was  granted  the  easier 
and  more  ignoble  death  of  being  hanged. 
"  The  lovely  and  beautiful  Anne  Bul- 
len  had,  therefore,  to  lay  her  head  upon 
the  block.  On  the  day  of  her  execu- 
tion the  king  had  commanded  a  large 
hunting-party,  and  in  the  morning  we 
rode  forth  toward  Epping  Forest.  The 
king  was  at  first  unusually  cheerful  and 
jocose,  and  he  commanded  me  to  ride 
beside  him  and  relate  the  current  gossip 
and  court  scandal.  He  laughed  at  my 
malicious  anecdotes,  and  the  more  I  de- 
famed ray  fellow-courtiers  the  more  was 
his  mirth  increased.  At  length  we 
halted.  The  king  had  laughed  and 
talked  so  mucli  that  he  became  hungry 
at  last.  He  reclined  under  the  shade  of 
an  oak,  and,  in  the  midst  of  his  retinue 
and  of  his  dogs,  he  partook  of  breakfast 
with  wonderful  zest  and  appetite — 
albeit  he  had  now  become  somewhat 
more  silent  and  reserved,  and  looked 
from  time  to  time  in  the  direction  of 
London,  with  visible  anxiety  and  unea- 
siness in  his  countenance.  Suddenly, 
however,  was  heard  the  dull  boom  of  a 
cannon.  We  all  knew  that  this  was  the 
signal  which  was  to  announce  to  the 
king  that  Anne  Bullen's  head  had  fallen. 
We  knew  it,  and  a  cold  shudder  ran 
through  our  veins.  The  king  alone 


smiled ;  and  standing  up  and  taking  his 
hunting  accoutrements  from  my  hands, 
he  said,  with  a  serene  countenance :  *  It 
is  over !  The  work  is  done.  Unleash 
the  dogs,  and  let  us  follow  the  chase.' 

"That,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  with  sad- 
ness, "  was  the  funeral  discourse  which 
the  king  uttered  concerning  his  lovely 
and  innocent  wife." 

"  Do  you  pity  her,  my  lord  ? "  asked 
Lady  Jane,  with  surprise.  "If  I  mis- 
take not,  Anne  Bullen  was  an  enemy  ol 
our  Church,  and  an  adherent  of  the  de- 
testable new  doctrines." 

Her  father  shrugged  his  shoulders 
with  an  air  of  contempt.  "  That  did  not 
prevent  Queen  Anne  from  belonging  to 
the  fairest  and  most  charming  women  of 
England.  And  besides,  however  much 
she  may  have  inclined  to  the  new  doc- 
trines, she  did  us  one  essential  service  at 
least,  for  it  was  she  who  caused  the 
death  of  Sir  Thomas  More.  She  hated 
him  because  he  did  not  favor  her  mar- 
riage with  the  king,  and  so  did  the  king 
likewise  for  his  refusing  to  take  the  oath 
of  supremacy.  Nevertheless,  Henry 
would  have  spared  him — for  at  that 
time  he  still  had  some  respect  for  learn- 
ing and  virtue,  and  Sir  Thomas  was  so 
learned  a  man  that  he  won  the  king's 
good  graces.  But  Anne  Bullen  desired 
his  death,  and  accordingly  he  had  to 
mount  the  scaffold.  Ah,  believe  me, 
Jane,  it  was  a  glorious,  though  a  mel- 
ancholy hour  for  all  England,  that  hour 
when  the  head  of  Sir  Thomas  More  was 
laid  on  the  block.  But  we  happy  cour- 
tiers of  Whitehall  Palace — we  alone 
were  cheerful  and  merry  on  the  occa- 


52 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


won.  "We  danced  a  new  dance,  the 
music  of  which  the  king  himself  had 
composed ;  for  you  know  the  king  is 
not  only  an  author,  hut  also  a  musical 
amateur,  and  as  he  now  writes  pious 
books,  so  he  then  composed  dance-music. 
Every  evening  when  we  had  danced 
ourselves  tired,  we  sat  down  to  the 
card-table.  And  just  as  I  had  won  a 
few  guineas  from  the  king,  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  Tower  arrived  with  intel- 
ligence that  the  execution  had  taken 
place,  and  gave  us  an  account  of  the 
last  moments  of  the  great  scholar.  The 
king  threw  down  his  cards,  and,  cast- 
leg  an  angry  glance  at  Anne  Bullen, 
said  with  a  tremulous  voice,  'You  are 
guilty  of  the  death  of  this  man.'  He 
then  rose  up,  and  retired  to  his  apart- 
ments, whither  no  one  dared  to  follow 
him — not  even  the  queen.  You  see,  then, 
that  Anne  Bullen  has  a  claim  to  our 
gratitude,  for  the  death  of  Sir  Thomas 
More  delivered  England  from  another 
great  danger.  Melancthon  and  Bucer, 
and  with  them  some  of  the  greatest 
pulpit  orators  of  Gennany,  had  set  out 
on  their  journey  to  London,  as  delegates 
from  the  Protestant  princes  of  Germany, 
to  nominate  the  king  as  the  chief  of 
their  league.  But  the  fearful  news  of 
the  execution  01  their  friend  drove  them 
back  in  terror,  after  they  had  accom- 
plished half  their  journey. 

"  Peace,  therefore,  to  the  ashes  of  the 
unhappy  Anne  Bullen,  who  has  mean- 
while been  avenged — avenged  upon  her 
rival  and  successor,  on  whose  account 
she  had  to  mount  the  scaffold — avenged 
on  Jane  Seymour !  " 


"But  she  was  the  king's  favorite 
wife,"  said  Lady  Jane,  "  and  when  she 
died  he  mourned  for  her  two  whole 
years." 

"  Yes,  he  mourned,"  said  Lord  Doug- 
las, with  a  sneer.  "  He  mourned  for 
all  his  wives.  Even  for  Anne  Bullen  he 
put  on  a  mourning  suit,  and  in  his  white 
mourning  robes  he  led  Jane  Seymour  to 
the  nuptial  altar  two  days  after  the  exe- 
cution of  Anne  Bullen.  What  signifies 
outward  mourning?  Did  not  Anne  Bul- 
len mourn  in  like  manner  for  Katharine 
of  Arragon,  whom  she  had  driven  from 
the  throne.  For  eight  weeks  she  wore 
weeds  for  Henry's  first  wife ;  but  Anne 
was  a  prudent  woman,  and  she  knew 
that  yellow  robes  became  her  admira- 
bly." 

"  But  the  king  mourned  for  Jane  Sey- 
mour not  only  outwardly,  but  in  real- 
ity," said  Lady  Jane,  "for  it  was  only 
after  the  lapse  of  two  years  that  he  re- 
solved upon  a  new  marriage." 

Lord  Douglas  laughed.  "  But  during 
these  two  years  of  widowhood  he  was 
consoled  in  some  measure,  by  having 
fallen  in  love  with  the  beautiful  Mar- 
guerite de  Montreuil,  a  French  lady,  and 
he  would  have  married  her  too,  had  her 
prudence  not  been  as  great  as  her 
beauty  ;  and  so  she  preferred  returning 
to  France,  rather  than  accept  the  peril- 
ous distinction  of  becoming  Henry's 
fourth  queen." 

"But  yet,  my  father,  the  case  of 
Jane  Seymour  was  very  natural,  for  she 
died  in  childbed." 

"  Ay,  truly  in  childbed,  and  yet  not 
a  natural  death,  for  she  might  have  been 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS  WIVES. 


53 


saved.  But  Henry  would  not  have  it  so. 
His  love  had  already  cooled  down ;  and 
when  the  physicians  asked  if  they  should 
save  the  mother  or  the  child,  he  replied, 
'  Save  the  child  by  all  means ;  I  can  get 
wives  enough.' 

"  Ah,  my  daughter,  I  hope  you  may 
not  die  such  a  natural  death  as  poor 
Jane  Seymour,  for  whom,  as  you  say,  the 
king  mourned  for  two  years.  But,  after 
this,  the  king  met  with  quite  a  novel 
and  extraordinary  adventure.  In  short, 
he  fell  in  love  with  a  picture  ;  and  as,  in 
his  lofty  self-complacency,  he  felt  per- 
suaded that  the  beautiful  portrait  of 
himself  which  Holbein  had  painted,  did 
not  at  all  flatter  him,  but  was  quite  true 
to  nature,  he  never  suspected  that  Hol- 
bein's likeness  of  the  Princess  Anne  of 
Cleves  could  have  been  flattered  or  in- 
correct. The  king  accordingly  became 
enamoured  of  a  portrait,  and  sent  his  en- 
voys to  Germany,  in  order  to  bring  over 
the  fair  original  of  this  picture  to  Eng- 
land for  his  wife.  He  even  went  forward 
himself  to  meet  her  at  Rochester.  Ah, 
Jane  1  I  have  seen  many  strange  and  ri- 
diculous things  in  the  course  of  my  life,  but 
that  scene  at  Rochester  must  be  reckoned 
as  the  most  piquant  of  all  my  reminiscen- 
ces. The  king  was  glowing  with  more 
than  poetic  inspiration,  and  as  madly  in 
love  as  a  boy  of  twenty,  and  thus  began 
our  romantic  bridal  excursion,  in  which 
Henry  appeared  incognito,  as  my  cousin. 
To  me  was  given  the  flattering  commis- 
sion, as  master  of  the  horse,  to  convey 
to  the  young  queen  the  greetings  of  her 
ardent  bridegroom,  and  to  beg  of  her  to 
ive  the  cavalier  who  should  hand 


her  a  present  from  the  king.  She 
granted  my  request  with  a  simpering 
smile,  which  disclosed  to  view  a  fearful 
set  of  yellow  teeth.  I  opened  the  door, 
and  allowed  the  king  to  enter.  Ah, 
you  should  have  witnessed  that  scene ! 
It  was  the  only  bit  of  farce  in  the  bloody 
tragedy  of  Henry's  matrimonial  career. 
You  should  have  seen  with  what  hasty 
impatience  Henry  rushed  in,  and  then 
suddenly,  on  seeing  her,  staggered  back, 
and  stared  at  the  princess  ;  and  then 
slowly  retreating,  put  the  costly  gift 
which  he  had  brought  with  him  into  my 
hand,  without  uttering  a  word,  but  cast- 
ing a  look  of  intense  anger  at  Cromwell, 
who  had  brought  him  the  portrait  of 
the  princess,  and  had  led  him  into  this 
marriage.  The  romantic  and  ardent  lover 
vanished  after  this  first  glance  at  his 
fair  bride.  He  approached  the  princess 
again,  but  on  this  occasion  in  his  own 
character,  and  in  a  harsh  and  hasty 
manner  said  he  himself  was  the  king. 
He  bade  her  welcome  in  a  few  words, 
and  bestowed  upon  her  a  cold  and  formal 
greeting.  Then,  however,  he  suddenly 
took  my  hand  and  drew  me  away  with 
him,  while  he  made  a  signal  to  the 
others  to  follow;  and  when  at  length 
we  got  out  of  the  atmosphere  of  this 
poor  unprepossessing  princess,  and  were 
some  distance  away,  the  king  turned 
with  an  angry  countenance  to  Crom- 
well, and  said :  'Is  that  what  you  call 
beauty  ?  I  call  her  a  Flemish  mare,  but 
not  a  princess.' 

"Anne's  plain  face,  I  doubt  not,  was 
bestowed  upon  her  by  God,  in  order  that 
the  only  true  Church  should  be  deliv- 


54: 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


ered  from  the  danger  which  threatened 
it.  For  had  Anne  of  Cleves — the  sister, 
niece,  aunt,  and  grand-daughter  of  all 
the  German  Protestant  princes — had 
she,  I  say,  been  handsome,  our  church 
would  have  been  threatened  by  dangers 
beyond  conception.  The  king  could  not 
overcome  his  dislike,  and  once  more  his 
conscience,  which  always  appeared  most 
tender  and  scrupulous  when  it  was  most 
lax  and  irregular,  must  needs  come  to 
Ins  aid. 

"  Accordingly,  the  king  declared  that 
he  had  only  outwardly,  and  not  in  his 
inward  conscience,  consented  to  this 
marriage,  from  which  he  was  now 
shrinking  back ;  as  it  would,  he  alleged, 
be  in  reality  nothing  less  than  a  breach 
of  faith — a  perjury  and  a  bigamy.  For 
had  not  Anne's  father  once  already  be- 
trothed her  to  the  son  of  the  Duke  of 
Lorraine?  had  he  not  pledged  his  sol- 
emn word  that  he  would  give  him  his 
daughter  to  wed  when  he  should 
have  attained  his  majority?  Kings 
had  already  been  exchanged,  and  the 
marriage  contract  already  drawn  up. 
Anne  of  Cle-ves  therefore  was  really 
married  already,  and  accordingly  Henry, 
with  his  tender  conscience,  could  not 
make  the  betrothed  lady  his  wife.  He 
therefore  made  her  his  sister,  and  gave 
her  the  palace  at  Eichmond  for  a  resi- 
dence, if  she  wished  to  remain  in 
England.  She  accepted  it:  her  blood, 
which  ran  coldly  and  sluggishly  through 
her  veins,  did  not  revolt  at  the  thought 
of  being  rejected  and  contemned.  She 
accepted  the  offer,  and  remained  in  Eng- 
land. 


"  Anne  of  Cleves  was  rejected  because 
she  was  plain,  and  now  the  king  chose 
Katharine  Howard  for  his  fifth  wife  be- 
cause she  was  handsome.  Of  this  mar- 
riage I  can  tell  you  but  little,  for  at  that 
time  I  had  already  been  sent  on  a  diplo- 
matic mission  to  Dublin,  whither  you 
soon  followed  me.  Katharine  was  very 
beautiful,  and  the  king's  heart,  already 
feeling  the  effect  of  time,  was  once  more 
inflamed  with  the  fire  of  youthful  love. 
He  loved  her  more  ardently  than  any  of 
his  former  wives,  and  he  was  so  happy 
in  her  society,  that  he  publicly  knelt 
down  in  church  and  thanked  God  for 
the  felicity  which  he  enjoyed  with  his 
beautiful  young  queen.  But  that  did 
not  last  long ;  for  at  the  very  moment 
that  the  king  was  proclaiming  his  wed- 
ded bliss,  he  had  already  reached  its  cul- 
minating point,  and  the  next  day  he  was 
hurled  from  this  pinnacle  into  the  abyss. 
I  speak  without  poetical  exaggeration, 
my  dear  child ;  the  previous  day,  he 
thanked  God  for  his  happiness,  and  on 
the  morrow,  Katharine  Howard  was  al- 
ready under  confinement  and  accused  of 
being  a  faithless  wife  and  a  shameless 
profligate.  More  than  seven  lovers  had 
already  preceded  her  spouse,  and  some 
of  them  had  even  accompanied  her  on 
the  royal  progress  which  she  made  in 
the  north  with  her  husband.  On  this 
occasion  it  was  no  pretext,  for  Henry 
had  not  yet  had  time  to  grow  enamoured 
of  any  other  woman,  and  Katharine  had 
well  understood  how  to  attach  him  to 
her,  and  always  to  kindle  fresh  ardor  in 
his  breast.  But  for  the  very  reason  that 
he  loved  her,  he  could  not  pardon  her 


FATHER  AND   DAUGHTER. 


55 


for  having  deceived  him.  So  much  cru- 
elty and  hatred  is  there  in  love;  and 
Henry,  who  only  yesterday  lay  like  a 
lainb  at  her  feet,  was  to-day  as  excited 
with  jealousy  and  rage  as  he  had  yester- 
day been  with  rapture  and  delight.  Still 
in  his  anger  he  loved  her,  and  when  he 
held  in  his  hands  the  unequivocal  proofs 
of  her  guilt,  he  wept  like  a  child.  But 
as  he  could  no  longer  be  her  lover,  he 
resolved  to  be  her  executioner.  As  she 
had  polluted  the  purple  of  his  royal 
robes,  he  wished  to  dye  them  'afresh  in 
the  crimson  of  her  blood;  and  he  did  it. 
Katharine  Howard  was  compelled  to  lay 
her  beautiful  head  upon  the  block,  as 
Anne  Bullen  had  done  before  her,  and 
the  death  of  the  latter  was  now  once 
more  avenged.  Lady  Rochford  had  been 
the  accuser  of  Anne  Bullen,  and  it  was 
her  testimony  which  brought  that  queen 
to  the  scaffold  ;  but  now  she  was  herself 
convicted  of  having  been  privy  and  ac- 
cessory to  Katharine  Howard's  love-in- 
trigues, and  with  Katharine's  head  fell 
also  that  of  Lady  Rochford,  under  the 
executioner's  axe. 

"  Ah !  it  required  a  long  time  to  re- 
cover the  king  from  this  blow ;  for  the 
space  of  two  years  he  sought  for  the 
pure  and  blameless  virgin  who  could 
become  his  wife,  without  peril  of  the 
scaffold.  But  he  found  none,  and  so  he 
took  to  himself  Katharine  Parr,  the 
widow  of  Lord  Latimer.  But  you  know, 
ray  child,  the  name  of  Katharine  is  one 
of  evil  omen  for  Henry's  wives.  The 
first  Katharine  was  put  away— the 
second  beheaded — what  will  be  the  fate 
of  the  third?" 


Lady  Jane  smiled. 

"  Katharine  does  not  love  the  king," 
she  said,  "  and  I  believe  she  would  will- 
ingly consent,  like  Anne  of  Cleves,  to 
become  the  sister  of  Henry  instead  of  hia 
wife." 

"What!  Katharine  not  love  the 
king? "  asked  Lord  Douglas,  with  breath- 
less eagerness.  "  Does  she  love  another, 
then?" 

"  No,  my  lord.  Her  heart  is  still  like 
a  sheet  of  blank  paper — for  as  yet  no 
name  is  inscribed  thereon." 

"  Then  it  will  be  our  task  to  write  a 
name  upon  it,  and  this  name  must  send 
her  to  the  block,  or  else  cause  her  to  be 
put  aside,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  with  ve- 
hemence. "  It  will  be  your  business, 
Jane,  to  write,  with  a  pen  of  iron,  some 
name  or  other  so  legibly  on  her  heart 
that  the  king  may  be  able  to  read  it  at 
some  future  day." 


CHAPTER  VIE. 

FATHER   AND   DAUGHTER. 

BOTH  were  now  silent  for  some  time. 
Lord  Douglas  had  leaned  back  in  his 
seat,  and,  breathing  fast,  seemed  to  re- 
cover himself  a  little  from  the  effect  of 
long  speaking.  But  while  he  thus 
rested,  his  large,  piercing  eyes  were  un- 
ceasingly fixed  upon  Lady  Jane,  who 
had  reclined  on  the  ottoman,  and  look- 
ing with  a  meditative  air  of  abstraction, 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  father's 
presence. 


56 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


An  arch  smile  played  for  a  moment 
upon  the  features  of  the  earl,  on  per- 
ceiving the  abstracted  gaze  of  his 
daughter ;  but  it  speedily  vanished,  and 
then  his  brow  became  marked  with 
lines  of  deep  thought. 

S<  :g  that  his  daughter  was  still 
wrapt  in  visionary  dreams,  he  at  length 
laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and 
said,  hastily,  "What  are  you  thinking 
of,  Jane?" 

She  started  violently,  and  looked  at 
the  earl  with  an  air  of  confusion. 

"I  was  thinking  of  all  you  had  said 
to  me,  my  father,"  she  replied.  "  I  was 
considering  what  advantage  I  could  de- 
rive from  it  for  our  purpose." 

Lord  Douglas  shook  his  head  with  an 
incredulous  smile:  "Take  care,  Jane," 
8aid  he,  at  length,  in  a  grave  tone — 
u  take  care  that  your  heart  does  not  be- 
lie your  head !  If  we  are  to  attain  our 
object  in  this  matter,  you  must,  above 
all  things,  keep  your  head  and  your 
heart  cool.  Do  you  think  you  possess 
both  already?" 

She  cast  down  her  eyes  with  visible 
embarrassment  before  the  penetrating 
glance  of  Lord  Douglas.  He  perceived 
it,  and  a  hasty  word  rose  to  his  lips,  but 
he  checked  it.  As  a  prudent  diploma- 
tist, he  knew  that  it  is  sometimes  more 
advisable  to  destroy  a  thing  by  ignoring 
it,  than  to  enter  into  an  open  contest 
upon  its  merits. 

The  feelings  are  like  the  dragon's 
teeth  of  Theseus.  When  we  overcome 
them  they  always  grow  afresh,  and 
spring  from  the  ground  with  increased 
vigor. 


Lord  Douglas  was,  therefore,  careful 
not  to  remark  his  daughter's  confusion. 
"Pardon  me,  Jane,"  he  said,  "if,  in  my 
zeal  and  my  tender  regard  for  you,  I  have 
gone  too  far.  I  know  that  your  dear 
and  beautiful  head  is  cool  enough  to 
bear  the  crown;  I  know  that  in  your 
heart  dwell  ambition  and  religion  alone. 
Let  us  therefore  consider  what  further 
we  have  to  do  in  order  to  accomplish 
our  purpose.  We  have  already  spoken 
of  Henry  as  a  husband  and  as  a  man, 
and  I  trust  you  have  drawn  some  useful 
lessons  from  the  fate  of  his  wives.  You 
have  seen  that  a  wife  must  possess  all 
the  good  and  all  the  bad  qualities  of  a 
woman,  in  order  to  be  able  to  rule  this 
stiff-necked  tyrant — this  voluptuous — 
this  vain,  and  sensual  man.  But,  above 
all  things,  you  must  have  a  perfect 
knowledge  of  the  art  of  coquetry.  You 
must  be  a  female  Proteus.  To-day,  a 
Messalina — to-morrow,  a  devotee — the 
next  day,  a  learned  woman — and  the 
day  after,  a  toying  girl ;  you  must  al- 
ways seek  to  take  the  king  by  surprise 
— to  keep  his  mind  on  the  strain,  and 
make  him  cheerful.  You  must  never 
abandon  yourself  to  the  dangerous  feel- 
ing of  security,  for,  in  fact,  Henry's  wife 
is  never  safe  ;  the  axe  hangs  continually 
above  her  head  : — so  that  you  must  al- 
ways regard  your  husband  only  as  a 
capricious  lover,  whom  you  have  each 
day  to  win  anew." 

"  You  speak,  my  father,  as  if  I  were 
already  the  wife  of  the  king,"  said  Lady 
Jane,  smiling;  "and  yet  it  seems  to  me 
that  there  are  still  many  difficulties  to 
overcome  before  I  reach  that  point; 


FATHER  AND   DAUGHTER. 


57 


difficulties  vhich  are  perhaps  insur- 
mountable." 

"  Insurmountable  ?  "  said  Lord  Doug- 
las, with  a  shrug.  "With  the  aid  of 
Holy  Church  there  are  no  obstacles  insur- 
mountable; we  have  only  to  be  quite 
sure  beforehand  of  our  object,  and  of 
the  means  to  its  attainment.  Do  not, 
therefore,  disdain  to  probe  the  king's 
character  again  and  again,  and  you  may 
be  certain  you  will  always  discover  in  it 
some  new  feature — some  striking  pecu- 
liarity. We  have  spoken  of  him  as  a 
husband  and  family  man,  but  of  his  re- 
ligious and  political  characteristics  I  have 
said  nothing;  and  these  it  is  which 
constitute  the  essence  of  his  whole  be- 
ing. 

"  First  of  all  then,  Jane,  I  will  tell  you 
a  secret.  The  king,  who  has  made  him- 
self the  chief  priest  of  his  church — whom 
the  pope  once  called  the  champion  and 
defender  of  the  faith — the  king,  I  say, 
has  in  his  heart  no  religion  whatever. 
lie  is  merely  a  pliant  reed,  swayed  to 
and  fro  by  the  wind.  He  does  not  him- 
self know  what  he  wishes ;  and  dallying 
with  both  sides,  he  is  to-day  a  heretic, 
in  order  to  make  it  appear  that  he  is  a 
strong-minded,  free-thinking  man,  of  en- 
lightened reason — to-morrow  a  Catholic, 
in  order  to  exhibit  himself  as  the  obedi- 
ent and  humble  servant  of  God,  who  only 
seeks  for  salvation  through  works  of  love 
and  piety.  But  in  his  inmost  soul,  he 
has  an  equal  indifference  for  both  creeds ; 
and  had  the  pope  formerly  thrown  no 
difficulties  in  his  way — had  he  favored 
big  divorce  from  Katharine,  King  Henry 
would  still  have  continued  a  faithful  and 


active  member  of  the  Catholic  Church. 
But  his  holiness  was  so  imprudent  as  to 
excite  him  by  contradiction ;  Henry's 
pride  and  vanity  were  stung,  until  he 
revolted,  and  so  he  became  a  church  re- 
former— not  from  conviction — but  from 
a  pure  love  of  opposition.  And  this,  my 
daughter,  you  must  never  forget,  for  by 
means  of  this  lever  you  may  once  more 
convert  him  to  be  a  strict,  dutiful,  and 
obedient  son  of  the  Holy  Church.  He 
has  broken  off  with  the  pope,  and  has 
assumed  the  supremacy  of  the  Church, 
but  he  could  not  find  in  himself  the  cour- 
age to  carry  out  his  work,  and  throw 
himself  altogether  into  the  arms  of  the 
Reformation.  Though  he  opposed  the 
papal  authority,  yet  he  has  ever  remained 
true  to  the  Church — albeit  perhaps  he 
does  not  know  it  himself.  He  is  a 
Catholic,  and  hears  the  mass ;  he  has 
abolished  the  monasteries,  and  yet  for- 
bidden the  priests  to  marry ;  he  allows 
the  Eucharist  to  be  administered  in  one 
kind,  and  believes  in  tran substantiation. 
He  abolishes  monasteries,  but  still  enjoins 
that  the  vows  of  celibacy,as  well  of  monks 
as  of  nuns,  shall  be  strictly  maintained ; 
and,  finally,  auricular  confession  is  a 
very  necessary  part  of  his  church.  And 
that  is  what  he  calls  his  Six  Articles,  as 
the  basis  of  his  4  English  Church.'  Poor, 
vain,  and  short-sighted  man  !  He  knows 
not  that  he  has  done  all  this,  only  be- 
cause he  wished  to  make  himself  pope, 
while  he  is  nothing  more  than  the  anti- 
pope  o£  the  Holy  Father,  whom  he  dares 
with  scandalous  effrontery  to  call  the 
'  Bishop  of  Rome,'  " 

"But  for  this  audacity,"  said  Lady 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


Jane,  with  looks  of  vindictive  triumph,1 
"the  anathema  has  smitten  him  and 
cursed  his  head,  and  has  given  him  up 
to  the  scorn  and  contempt  of  his  own 
subjects.  For  this  the  Holy  Father  just- 
ly denounces  him  as  an  apostate  and 
abandoned  son — the  blasphemous  usurp- 
er of  the  Holy  Church.  Therefore  has 
the  pope  declared  his  crown  forfeit,  and 
has  awarded  it  to  any  one  that  shall  ac- 
quire it  by  force  of  arms.  Therefore  has 
the  pope  forbidden  his  subjects  to  obey 
him,  or  to  honor  and  recognize  him  as 
their  king." 

"  And  yet  he  continues  King  of  Eng- 
land, and  his  subjects  obey  him  with 
slavish  submission,"  exclaimed  Lord 
Douglas,  with  a  shrug.  "  It  was  rather 
unwise  to  carry  threats  so  far ;  for  one 
should  never  threaten  unless  he  is  pre- 
pared to  carry  his  threats  into  execution. 
Unfortunately,  the  papal  anathema  has 
served  the  king  more  than  it  has  injured 
him,  for  it  has  driven  him  to  assume  a 
more  fierce  opposition,  and  has  proved 
to  his  subjects  that  he  may  be  stricken 
by  the  ban  of  excommunication,  and  yet 
live  happily  in  the  full  enjoyment  of 
life. 

"  No ;  the  anathemas  of  Eome  have  in 
nowise  hurt  the  king,  nor  has  his  throne 
suffered  the  slightest  shock ;  but  the  de- 
fection of  the  king  has  deprived  the  Holy 
See  of  a  powerful  support;  and  there- 
fore we  must  lead  the  faithless  monarch 
back  once  more  to  the  Holy  Church. 
And  that  is  the  task,  my  daughter, 
which  God  and  the  will  of  His  sacred 
vicar  commit  to  your  hands — an  excel- 
lent, a  glorious,  and  a  meritorious  work, 


for  it  will  make  you  a  queen.  But  I  re- 
peat it,  be  cautious,  and  never  rouse  the 
king  by  opposition  to  his  wishes.  This 
vacillating  man  must  be  led  unconscious- 
ly to  that  point  which  his  salvation  de- 
mands; for,  as  I  have  said,  he  is  a 
vacillator,  and  in  the  haughty  pride  of 
his  kingship  he  presumes  to  overrule 
all  parties,  and  establish  a  new  church 
for  himself — a  church  which  is  neither 
Catholic  nor  Protestant,  but  his  church — 
the  laws  of  which  are  found  in  the  Six 
Articles,  or  in  the  so-called  'Bloody 
Statute.' 

"  He  will  neither  be  a  Catholic  nor  a 
Protestant,  and  in  order  to  show  his  im- 
partiality, he  is  an  equally  dreaded  par- 
tisan of  both  sides.  Thus  it  has  come  to 
pass  that,  in  England,  he  hangs  those 
who  are  Catholics,  and  burns  those  who 
are  not.  It  affords  the  king  pleasure  to 
hold,  with  firm  and  relentless  grasp,  the 
balance  between  both  parties,  and  on  the 
same  day  on  which  he  throws  a  papist 
into  a  dungeon  for  having  questioned 
the  royal  supremacy,  he  puts  a  reformer 
on  the  rack  for  having  denied  transub- 
stantiation — or  for  having  perhaps  re- 
jected the  doctrine  of  auricular  con- 
fession. Even  during  the  last  session  of 
Parliament  five  persons  were  hanged  for 
having  called  the  supremacy  in  question; 
and  five  others  burned  for  having  ad- 
hered to  the  principles  of  the  reformers. 
And  on  this  very  evening,  Jane — the 
evening  of  the  king's  wedding-day— both 
Catholics  and  Protestants,  coupled  two 
by  two,  like  dogs,  have  been  sent  to  the 
stake,  at  the  special  command  of  his 
majesty,  who,  as  head  of  the  Church, 


FATHER  AND   DAUGHTER. 


59 


wished  to  show  his  impartiality — the 
Catholics  being  condemned  as  traitors, 
and  the  others  as  heretics." 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Lady  Jane,  shudder- 
ing and  turning  pale,  "I  won't  be  Queen 
of  England.  I  have  a  horror  of  such  a 
cruel  and  ferocious  king,  whose  heart 
knows  neither  pity  nor  mercy." 

Her  father  laughed. 

"  Don't  you  know,  then,  child,  how  a 
hyena  may  be  rendered  harmless,  and  a 
tiger  tamed  ?  Why,  we  generally  throw 
them  some  food  that  they  can  swallow, 
and  as  they  love  blood  so  much,  we  give 
them  blood  to  drink,  so  that  they  may 
never  have  to  thirst  for  it.  The  king's 
only  constant  and  unchanging  peculiar- 
ity is  his  cruelty  and  blood-craving — so 
that  we  must  always  have  some  food  of 
this  kind  ready  for  him,  and  then  he  will 
always  be  a  very  gracious  king  and  ami- 
able husband. 

"  And  there  is  no  lack  of  objects  to 
satisfy  his  appetite  in  this  respect. 
There  are  so  many  men  and  women  at 
his  court ;  and  when  he  is  in  his  blood- 
thirsty humor,  it  makes  no  difference  to 
Henry  whose  blood  ho  swallows.  He 
has  shed  the  blood  of  his  wives  and  rela- 
tives, he  has  sent  to  the  scaffold  those 
whom  he  called  his  most  trusty  friends, 
and  he  has  sent  the  most  worthy  man  in 
his  realm  to  the  block. 

"Sir  Thomas  More  knew  him  well, 
and  in  a  single  striking  sentence  he 
summed  up  the  king's  whole  character. 
Ah,  Jane,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I  saw  the 
mild,  serene  countenance  of  that  sage, 
as  I  saw  him  standing  in  that  embra- 
sure of  the  window,  and  the  king  beside 


him  frith  his  arm  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
Chancellor  More,  listening  to  his  dis- 
course with  a  kind  of  reverential  devo- 
tion. And  when  the  king  had  departed, 
I  approached  Sir  Thomas,  and  wished 
him  joy  at  the  great  favor,  publicly  rec- 
ognized, which  he  possessed  with  the 
king.  'The  king  loves  you  most  sin- 
cerely,' I  observed.  'Yes,'  he  replied, 
with  his  sad,  quiet  smile,  '  yes,  the  king 
loves  me  truly;  but  that  would  not 
for  a  moment  prevent  him  from  sacrifi- 
cing my  head  for  a  costly  jewel,  a  beauti- 
ful woman,  or  a  square  mile  of  territory 
in  France.' 

"  He  was  right,  and  it  was  for  a  beau- 
tiful woman  that  the  head  of  that,  great 
philosopher  was  made  to  fall — of  whom 
the  most  Christian  emperor,  Charles  the 
Fifth,  said  :  '  Had  I  been  the  master  of 
such  a  servant,  of  whose  great  powers 
and  abilities  I  have  myself  had  so  much 
experience  for  many  years — had  I  pos- 
sessed so  wise  and  firm  a  counsellor  as 
Sir  Thomas  More,  I  would  rather  have 
lost  the  fairest  city  in  my  dominions 
than  so  worthy  a  statesman  and  ser- 
vant.' Ay,  Jane,  that  must  be  your 
first  and  holiest  law,  never  to  trust  the 
king,  and  never  to  reckon  upon  the  con- 
tinuance of  his  affection  or  the  marks  of 
his  favor.  For,  in  the  periidy  of  his 
heart,  it  often  pleases  him  to  shower 
favors  upon  them  whose  ruin  he  has 
already  resolved,  and  to  deck  with  hon- 
ors and  orders  to-day  those  whom  to- 
morrow he  has  doomed  to  die.  It  flat- 
ters his  self-love,  like  the  tiger,  to  play 
for  a  while  with  the  whelpling  which  he 
is  about  to  rend.  This  he  did  with 


60 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


Cromwell,  the  counsellor  and  friend  of 
many  years,  who,  moreover,  had  com- 
mitted no  other  crime  than  that  he  had 
first  shown  the  king  the  portrait  of  the 
unattractive  Anne  of  Cleves,  which  Hol- 
bein had  flattered  to  an  uncommon  ex- 
tent. But  the  king  was  careful  not  to 
be  angry  with  Cromwell  thereat,  nor  to 
reproach  him.  On  the  contrary,  he 
raised  him,  in  recognition  of  his  great 
merits,  to  the  dignity  of  Earl  of  Essex ; 
decorated  him  with  the  order  of  the 
Garter,  and  appointed  him  lord  high 
chamberlain;  and  then  only,  when 
Cromwell  felt  himself  quite  safe,  and 
basked  in  the  sunshine  of  *royal  favor — 
then  it  was  that  the  king  had  him  seized 
and  flung  into  the  Tower  on  a  charge  of 
high-treason.  And  so  Cromwell  was 
executed  because  Anne  of  Cleves  did  not 
please  the  king,  and  because  Hans  Hol- 
bein's portrait  had  flattered  her. 

"But  now  we  have  said  enough  of  the 
past,  Jane ;  let  us  therefore  speak  of  the 
present  and  of  the  future.  Let  us  now 
bethink  us  of  the  means  of  overthrowing 
this  woman  who  stands  in  our  way. 
When  once  her  downfall  is  accomplish- 
ed, it  will  not  be  difficult  for  us  to  put 
you  in  her  place ;  for  now  you  are  here 
in  the  king's  vicinity.  That  was  the 
great  drawback  to  our  previous  endeav- 
ors, that  we  were  not  on  the  spot ;  and 
that  we  could  only  work  through  inter- 
mediators and  confidants.  The  king 
had  not  seen  you  ;  and  since  the  unhappy 
affair  of  Anne  of  Oleves,  he  distrusted 
portraits.  I  knew  that  very  well,  for  I 
trust  no  one,  Jane — not  even  my  most 
faithful  and  dearest  friend.  I  build  upon 


no  one  but  ourselves.  Had  we  been 
here,  you  would  already  have  been  in 
the  place  of  Katharine  Parr, — you 
would  have  been  Queen  of  England. 
But  to  our  misfortune,  I  was  still  a  fa- 
vorite of  the  Kegent  of  Scotland,  and,  a 
such,  I  durst  not  venture  to  come  near 
Henry.  It  was  necessary  that  I  should  fall 
into  disgrace  in  the  north,  in  order  to  be- 
come more  certain  of  the  king's  favor 
here. 

"  Having,  then,  fallen  into  disgrace,  1 
fled  hither,  and  now  that  we  are  here 
let  the  contest  begin.  You  have  already 
this  day  taken  a  long  stride  toward  the 
goal ;  you  have  drawn  the  king's  atten- 
tion upon  you,  and  fixed  yourself  more 
firmly  in  Katharine's  favor.  I  must 
confess,  Jane,  that  I  have  been  enchant- 
ed with  your  discreet  behavior.  You 
have  to-day  gained  the  good-will  of 
all  parties,  and  it  was  admirably  prudent 
of  you  to  come  to  the  aid  of  the  Earl  of 
Surrey,  while  at  the  same  time  you  won 
over  the  heretical  court  party,  to  which 
Maria  Askew  belongs.  Yes,  Jane,  that 
was  a  clever  stroke  of  policy ;  for  the 
Howard  family  is  the  greatest  and  most 
powerful  at  court ;  and  Henry,  Earl  of 
Surrey,  is  one  of  its  most  powerful  rep- 
resentatives. "We  have,  therefore,  al- 
ready a  strong  party  at  court — a  party 
which  has  before  its  eyes  only  the  high 
and  sacred  object  of  assisting  Holy 
Church  once  more  to  regain  the  vic- 
tory, and  which  works  quietly  and  si- 
lently to  reconcile  the  king  with  the 
pope.  Henry  Howard  is  like  his  father, 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk, — a  good  Catho- 
lic, as  in  like  manner  was  his  niece, 


FATHER  AND   DAUGHTER. 


61 


Katharine  Howard, — only  that  she, 
while  devoted  to  God  and  the  Church, 
was  at  the  same  time  too  earnest  an 
admirer  of  the  opposite  sex  to  her  own. 
That  was  what  procured  the  victory 
for  the  other  side,  and  which  caused  the 
Catholics  once  more  to  succumb  to  the 
heretical  court  party.  Yes,  for  the  mo- 
ment, Cranmer  has  conquered  us  with 
Katharine  Parr ;  but  Gardiner,  with  the 
aid  of  Jane  Douglas,  will  soon  overcome 
the  heretics,  and  send  them  to  the  scaf- 
fold. That  is  our  plan,  and  with  God's 
grace  we  shall  bring  it  about." 

"  But  it  will  be  a  difficult  task,"  said 
Lady  Jane,  with  a  sigh.  "  The  queen  is 
a  pure,  unsullied  woman,  and  she  has 
besides  a  wise  head  and  a  keen  percep- 
tion. In  her  thoughts  too  she  is  inno- 
cence itself,  and  shrinks  with  virgin 
timidity  from  the  very  thought  of  sin." 

"She  must  be  weaned  from  this  ti- 
midity, Jane,  and  that  will  be  your  task. 
You  must  expel  all  these  strict  notions 
of  virtue  from  her  mind ;  you  must  seek, 
by  insinuating  ways,  to  ensnare  her 
heart,  and  seduce  it  from  such  rigid  and 
scrupulous  principles." 

u  Oh,  that  would  be  an  infernal 
scheme !  "  exclaimed  Lady  Jane,  turning 
pale.  "  That  would  be  a  crime,  my 
father ;  for  it  would  be  not  only  to  de- 
stroy her  earthly  happiness,  but  also  to 
endanger  her  soul.  That  I  should  be- 
guile her  to  sin  and  crime  is  surely  not 
your  odious  request  ?  If  so,  I  will  not 
obey  you !  It  is  true  I  hate  her,  for  she 
stands  in  the  way  of  my  ambition  ;  it  is 
true  I  am  willing  to  ruin  her,  for  she 
wears  the  crown  which  I  wish  to  pos- 


sess :  but  I  will  never  do  any  thing  so 
infamous  as  to  pour  into  her  heart  the 
poison  by  which  she  is  to  fall.  Let  her 
seek  the  deadly  draught  herself — I  will 
not  restrain  her  hand,  I  shall  not  warn 
her.  Let  her  find  the  paths  of  sin  if  she 
will — I  shall  not  tell  her  she  is  going 
astray ;  nay,  I  will  watch  all  her  move- 
ments, and  listen  to  every  word  and 
every  sigh  that  escapes  her ;  and  when 
she  has  committed  herself  by  a  false 
step,  then  I  shall  betray  her,  and  give 
her  up  to  her  judges.  That  is  what  I 
can  and  will  do.  I  shall  be  the  evil 
genius,  who  in  God's  name  will  expel 
her  from  Paradise ;  but  not  the  serpent 
who  in  the  name  of  Satan  would  allure 
her  to  sin." 

She  ceased,  and,  panting  for  breath, 
leaned  back  in  her  chair ;  but  now  her 
father's  hand  was  laid  upon  her  shoul- 
der with  a  convulsive  grasp,  and  with 
eyes  flashing  with  anger,  and  his  face 
pale  with  rage,  he  looked  at  her  with  a 
fixed  and  stern  gaze. 

Lady  Jane  uttered  a  cry  of  terror. 
She,  who  had  never  seen  her  father  but 
in  a  smiling  and  cordial  mood,  scarcely 
recognized  the  features  now  changed  by 
anger.  She  could  hardly  convince  her- 
self that  this  man,  with  fire-flashing 
eyes  and  knitted  brows,  and  lips  quiver- 
ing with  passion,  was  really  her  father. 

"  You  will  not !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a 
deep,  threatening  tone.  "  Do  you  dare 
to  resist  the  sacred  behests  of  the 
Church?  Or  have  you  forgotten  the 
promise  you  made  to  the  holy  fathers, 
whose  disciple  you  are?  Have  you 
forgotten  that  the  brethren  and  sisters 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


of  the  holy  league  dare  have  no  other 
will  than  that  of  their  superior  ?  Have 
you  forgotten  the  solemn  vow  which 
you  made  to  Ignatius  Loyola,  the  chief 
of  our  order  ?  Answer  me,  faithless  and 
undutiful  daughter  of  the  Church  !  Re- 
peat to  me  the  oath  which  you  took 
when  he  received  you  into  the  sacred 
order  of  the  Society  of  Jesus  1  Eepeat 
your  oath,  I  say !  " 

As  if  impelled  by  an  invisible  power, 
Lady  Jane  had  now  risen  from  her  seat, 
and  with  trembling  humility,  and  with 
her  hands  folded  across  her  breast,  she 
stood  before  her  father,  whose  tall,  com- 
manding, and  angry  form  seemed  to 
tower  above  her. 

"  I  have  sworn,"  she  replied,  "  to 
subject  my  own  mind  and  will,  my  life 
and  all  my  actions,  dutifully  to  the  will 
of  the  holy  fathers.  I  have  sworn  to  be 
a  blind  instrument  in  the  hands  of  my 
superiors,  and  to  do  only  what  they 
command  or  enjoin.  I  have  promised 
to  serve  the  holy  and  only  saving 
Church,  and  to  submit  myself  to  its  di- 
rections in  every  respect,  and  by  every 
means ;  none  of  which  I  am  to  despise, 
or  consider  too  trifling,  provided  it  con- 
duces to  the  end  in  .view.  For  the  end 
sanctifies  the  means,  and  nothing  is  a 
crime  when  done  for  the  honor  of  God 
and  of  His  Church." 

"  Ad  majorem  Dei  gloriam !  "  said 
her  father,  devoutly  folding  his  hands. 
"  And  do  you  know  what  awaits  you  if 
you  break  your  vow  ?  " 

"  Yes— disgrace  here,  and  perdition 
hereafter — the  execration  of  all  my 
brethren  and  -sisters — eternal  reproba- 


tion and  the  pains  of  hell !  The  holy 
fathers  will  put  me  to  death  under  num- 
berless pains  and  tortures;  and  while 
they  kill  my  body,  and  fling  it  for  food 
to  beasts  of  prey,  they  will  curse  rny 
soul  and  deliver  it  to  the  flames !  " 

"  And  what  awaits  you  if  you  remain 
true  to  your  word,  and  obey  the  com- 
mands which  you  shall  receive?" 

"Honor  and  glory  upon  earth,  and 
everlasting  bliss  in  heaven !  " 

"  Then  you  will  be  a  queen  on  earth 
and  a  queen  in  heaven.  Of  course  you 
know  the  laws  of  the  society,  and  remem- 
ber your  oath  ? " 

"I  do." 

"And  you  know  that  the  blessed 
Loyola,  before  he  left  us,  appointed  a 
general  superior  for  the  Society  of  Jesus 
in  England,  which  superior  all  the  breth- 
ren and  sisters  must  obey,  and  to  whom 
they  are  bound  to  render  blind  and  un- 
conditional submission  ? " 

"I  know  it." 

"  And  you  know  also  by  what  sign  the 
members  are  enabled  to  recognize  the 
general  superior?" 

"  Yes,  by  the  ring  of  Loyola,  which 
he  wears  on  the  forefinger  of  his  right 
hand." 

"And  here  you  behold  the  ring,"  said 
the  earl,  drawing  forth  his  hand  from 
his  doublet. 

Lady  Jane  uttered  a  loud  cry,  and  fell 
almost  unconscious  at  his  feet. 

Lord  Douglas  raised  her  up  in  his 
arms  with  a  tender  smile. 

"  You  see,  Jane,  I  am  not  only  your 
father,  but  also  your  master.  And  you 
will  obey  me,  will  you  not? " 


FATHER  AND   DAUGHTER. 


63 


"  Yes,  I  shall  obey  you,"  she  replied, 
in  a  faint  voice,  while  she  kissed  the 
hand  bearing  the  ominous  ring. 

"  Then  you  will  be  for  Katharine  Parr, 
as  you  express  it,  the  serpent  that  shall 
beguile  her  to  sin  ?" 

"  I  will." 

*'  You  will  seduce  her  to  sin,  and  al- 
lure her  to  a  love  which  shall  lead  to  her 
ruin?" 

"  Yes.    I  will  do  so,  ray  father." 

"I  must  now  designate  to  you  the 
person  whom  she  shall  love,  and  who 
shall  be  the  instrument  of  her  destruc- 
tion. You  are  ]to  lead  her  on  to  become 
enamoured  of  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of 
Surrey." 

Lady  Jane  uttered  a  loud  cry,  and 
seized  the  back  of  her  chair  to  support 
her  from  falling. 

Her  father  once  more  scanned  her 
with  an  angry  and  penetrating  glance. 

"What  means  this  cry?  Why  does 
the  selection  surprise  you?  "  he  asked. 

Lady  Jane  had  already  recovered  her 
self-possession.  "It  surprises  me,"  she 
replied,  "because  the  earl  is  already 
married." 

A  peculiar  smile  played  around  the 
lips  of  the  earl.  "  It  is  not  the  first 
time,"  he  said,  "  that  a  married  man  has 
become  dangerous  to  a  woman's  heart, 
and  it  is  just  the  impossibility  of  pos- 
session which  has  given  fresh  impulse  to 
the  flames  of  love.  The  hearts  of  women 
are  full  of  caprice  and  contradiction." 

Lady  Jane  looked  away  and  did  not 
reply ;  she  felt  that  the  keen  and  pier- 
cing glan  ce  of  her  father  rested  upon  her 
features,  and  she  knew  that  he  was  read- 


ing the  thoughts  of  her  heart,  even 
though  she  did  not  return  his  gaze. 

"  Then  you  will  no  longer  refuse  ?  "  he 
asked,  at  length.  "You  will  inspire  the 
young  queen  with  love  for  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  ? " 

"  I  will  try  to  do  so,  my  father." 

"Then  if  you  try  with  the  proper  in- 
tention, and  with  the  will  to  succeed, 
you  will  gain  your  point.  For,  as  you 
say,  the  queen's  heart  is  still  free;  it  is 
therefore  like  a  fertile  soil,  which  only 
requires  the  seed  to  be  sown  therein, 
that  it  may  yield  fruit  and  flowers. 
Katharine  Parr  does  not  love  the  king: 
you  will  therefore  teach  her  to  love  the 
Earl  of  Surrey." 

"  But,  my  lord,"  said  Lady  Jane,  with 
an  ironical  smile,  "in  order  to  attain 
this  result  with  certainty,  we  should 
possess  beforehand  some  magic  spell,  by 
virtue  of  which  the  earl  should  first  be 
inspired  with  a  passion  for  the  queen. 
For  the  queen  has  a  proud  spirit,  and  she 
will  never  so  far  forget  the  dignity  of  her 
sex  and  station,  as  to  love  a  man  who 
has  not  already  become  deeply  enam- 
oured of  her.  But  the  earl  possesses  not 
only  a  wife,  but  also,  it  is  said,  a  mis- 
tress." 

"Ah,  then  you  hold  it  as  perfectly 
unworthy  of  a  woman  to  love  a  man  by 
whom  she  is  not  besought?  "  asked  the 
earl,  in  a  significant  tone.  "I  am  re- 
joiced to  hear  this  from  my  daughter, 
and  to  be  assured  that  she,  at  least,  will 
not  fall  in  love  with  the  Earl  of  Surrey, 
who  is  every  where  known  as  the  'Lady- 
Killer.'  And  as  you  have  taken  the 
pains  to  become  accurately  informed  of 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


the  private  relationships  of  the  earl,  it 
was  doubtless  only  because  your  acute 
and  discerning  mind  had  already  anti- 
cipated the  commission  which  I  in- 
tended to  give  you  respecting  that 
nobleman.  Moreover,  daughter,  you 
are  in  error ;  and  if  a  certain  high,  but, 
nevertheless,  unfortunate  lady  should 
haply  fall  in  love  with  the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey, her  fate  will  here  be,  as  perhaps  it 
is  elsewhere,  to  exercise  resignation." 

While  her  father  thus  spoke,  an  ex- 
pression of  joyful  surprise  shone  upon 
the  features  of  Lady  Jane ;  but  it  soon 
gave  way  to  a  ghastly  paleness,  as  the 
earl  added :  "  Henry  Howard  is  destined 
for  Katharine  Parr,  and  you  must  help 
her  to  love  this  proud  and  handsome 
earl  (who  is  a  faithful  servant  of 
Holy  Church)  so  ardently  that  she  shall 
forget  all  the  dangers  and  consequences 
of  such  a  step." 

Lady  Jane  did  not  venture  an  objec- 
tion. She  hung  eagerly  upon  her  fa- 
ther's words,  in  order  once  more  to  find 
means  of  escape. 

"You  say  the  earl  is  a  true  servant 
of  our  Church,"  she  observed;  "and 
yet  you  wish  to  implicate  him  in  our 
dangerous  plans.  You  have  not,  there- 
fore, reflected  that  it  is  just  as  perilous 
to  love  the  queen  as  to  be  loved  by  her. 
And  if,  peradventure,  love  for  the  Earl 
of  Surrey  should  lead  the  queen  to  the 
scaffold,  it  will  also  cause  the  head  of 
the  earl  to  fall  at  the  same  time, 
whether  he  returns  her  love  or  not." 

Lord  Douglas  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders. 

"  If  the  good  of  the  Church  and  our 


holy  religion  is  concerned,  we  must  not 
shrink  from  the  danger  which  perchance 
one  of  our  party  may  incur.  To  a  holy 
cause,  holy  victims  must  frequently  fall 
a  sacrifice.  Let  therefore  the  earl's  head 
be  forfeit,  provided  the  Church  can  but 
gain  new  life  and  energy  from  tho 
martyr's  blood.  But  see,  Jane,  the 
morning  is  already  beginning  to  dawn, 
and  I  must  hasten  to  leave  you,  lest 
these  scandal-loving  courtiers  should  re- 
gard the  father  as  a  lover,  and  throw 
suspicion  on  the  pure  virtue  of  ray  ex- 
cellent daughter.  Farewell,  therefore, 
for  the  present.  "We  both  know  our 
parts  now,  and  we  will  endeavor  to  play 
them  successfully.  You  are  the  confi- 
dential friend  of  the  queen,  while  I  am 
the  harmless  courtier  who  now  and 
then  attempts  to  win  a  smile  from  his 
king  by  some  jocose  pleasantry.  That 
is  all.  Good-morning  then,  Jane,  and 
good-night.  For  you  must  sleep,  my 
child,  lest  your  cheeks  should  lose  their 
bloom,  or  your  eyes  their  brightness. 
The  king  detests  pale,  languishing  faces. 
Sleep,  therefore,  future  Queen  of  Eng- 
land !  " 

He  kissed  her  brow  faintly,  and  left 
the  room  with  a  stealthy  pace. 

Lady  Jane  listened  till  the  sound  of 
his  footsteps  was  lost;  and  then,  ex- 
hausted and  overcome,  she  sank  upon 
her  knees. 

"  Wretched  one  that  I  am !  "  she  mur- 
mured, while  streams  of  tears  bathed 
her  countenance.  "  I  am  to  inspire  the 
queen  with  love  for  the  Earl  of  Surrey, 
at  the  same  time  that — I  love  him  my- 
self! " 


THE  NEXT  DAY. 


65 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    NEXT     DAY. 

THE  grand  drawing-room  was  over. 
Katharine,  sitting  on  the  throne  beside 
the  king,  had  received  the  congratula- 
tions of  her  court;  and  the  smiling 
glances  of  the  king,  and  the  half-audible 
words  of  aifection,  which  he  now  and 
then  addressed  to  the  queen,  testified  to 
the  acute  and  quick-witted  courtiers  that 
the  king  was  to-day  as  enamoured  of  his 
young  wife  as  he  had  yesterday  been  of 
his  bride.  They  accordingly  vied  with 
each  other,  to  show  their  homage  to  her 
majesty,  and  to  catch  every  look  and 
smile  which  she  bestowed  on  those 
around  her,  that  they  might  thus  per- 
chance discover  the  future  favorites  of 
the  queen,  and  already  sue  for  their  good 
graces. 

But  the  eyes  of  the  young  queen  were 
directed  to  no  one  in  particular;  she 
was  cordial  and  smiling,  but  her  cour- 
tiers felt  that  this  cordiality  was  strained, 
and  that  her  smile  was  tinged  with  sad- 
ness. The  king  alone  did  not  observe  it. 
He  was  cheerful  and  happy,  and  it  there- 
fore seemed  to  him  that  no  one  at  his 
court  could  dare  to  sigh  or  feel  weary — 
as  the  king  himself  was  satisfied. 

After  the  drawing-room  was  over — at 
which  all  the  great  and  noble  of  the 
kingdom  had  passed  in  solemn  proces- 
sion before  the  royal  pair,  the  king,  con- 
formably with  the  court  etiquette  of  the 
time,  gave  his  hand  to  his  spouse,  and 
assisting  her  to  descend  from  the  throne, 
led  her  into  the  midst  of  the  saloon,  in 


order  to  present  to  her  the  members  of 
the  court  who  were  to  form  the  staff  on 
her  service. 

But  this  journey  from  the  throne  to 
the  middle  of  the  room  had  fatigued  the 
king.  This  promenade  of  thirty  paces 
was  for  him  a  very  unusual  and  laborious 
task,  and  the  king  was  anxious  to  ex- 
change it  for  another  and  a  more  agree- 
able one.  He  therefore  beckoned  to  the 
lord  chamberlain,  and  commanded  him 
to  have  the  doors  leading  to  the  dining- 
room  thrown  open;  he  then  ordered  his 
"house  chariot"  to  be  brought  forward, 
and  sitting  upright  therein  with  all  pos- 
sible dignity,  he  caused  it  to  stand  beside 
the  queen,  waiting  impatiently  for  the 
ceremony  of  presentation  to  be  over,  that 
Katharine  might  accompany  him  to 
dinner. 

Already  the  presentation  of  the  female 
portion  and  the  maids  of  honor  was 
ended,  and  now  came  the  turn  of  the 
gentlemen. 

The  lord  chamberlain  read  aloud 
from  his  list  the  names  of  those  cavaliers 
who  were  for  the  future  to  attend  upon 
the  queen,  and  whom  the  king  had  des- 
ignated in  the  list  with  his  own  hand. 
And  as  each  new  name  was  announced, 
an  expression  of  smiling  astonishment 
marked  the  faces  of  the  courtly  as- 
semblage ;  for  it  was  always  one  of  the 
youngest  and  handsomest,  and  most 
agreeable  of  the  lords,  that  was  succes- 
sively named  by  the  chamberlain. 

The  king  had  perhaps  contemplated  a 
cruel  game  with  his  wife :  in  surround- 
ing her  with  the  young  men  of  his  court, 
he  wished  perhaps  to  throw  her  into  the 


66 


UENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


midst  of  danger,  either  that  she  might 
perish  therein,  or  that,  avoiding  the 
snares  around  her,  he  might  be  able  to 
place  the  unassailable  virtue  of  his  young 
wife  in  the  clearest  light. 

The  list  had  commenced  with  the  sub- 
ordinate offices,  and,  going  upward,  it 
had  now  reached  the  highest  and  most 
important  posts  of  all. 

As  yet  the  master  of  the  horse,  and 
the  queen's  chamberlain,  were  not 
named,  and  these  were  doubtless  the 
most  weighty  changes  at  the  queen's 
court ;  for  one  or  other  of  these  officers 
was  always  bound  to  be  in  attendance 
upon  the  queen.  When  she  was  in  the 
palace,  the  lord  chamberlain  must 
always  wait  in  her  anteroom;  for  it 
was  only  through  him  that  any  one 
could  gain  access  to  the  queen ;  to  him 
were  committed  her  commands  respect- 
ing the  arrangements  and  pleasures  of 
the  day.  He  must  therefore  devise  new 
modes  of  amusement  and  royal  diver- 
sion ;  he  had  the  privilege  of  joining  the 
more  private  evening  circles  of  the  queen, 
and  of  standing  behind  the  queen's  chair, 
when  the  royal  couple  wished  to  sup  to- 
gether without  ceremony. 

This  office  of  chamberlain  was  there- 
fore a  very  important  one ;  for  as  it  con- 
fined him  to  the  vicinity  of  the  queen 
for  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  it  was 
almost  inevitable  that  the  chamberlain 
should  become  either  the  attentive  and 
confidential  friend,  or  the  malevolent 
and  prying  enemy,  of  his  royal  mistress. 

But  the  office  of  master  of  the  horse 
was  no  less  important ;  for  whenever  the 
queen  left  the  palace,  whether  on  foot 


or  in  her  carriage,  whether  to  take  a  ride 
in  the  forest,  or  to  enjoy  the  air  on  the 
river  in  her  gilded  barge,  the  master  of 
the  horse  had  always  to  be  at  her  side, 
had  always  to  accompany  her, — nay, 
this  post  was  yet  more  exclusive,  yet 
more  important.  For  though  the 
apartments  of  the  queen  were  always 
open  to  the  chamberlain,  still  he  was 
never  alone  with  her,  as  there  was  always 
some  lady  in  waiting,  who  would  hinder 
any  private  or  confidential  communica- 
tion between  the  queen  and  her  cham- 
berlain. 

It  was  otherwise,  however,  with  the 
master  of  the  horse.  Many  occasions 
were  presented  when  he  could  approach 
the  queen  unobserved,  or  at  least  speak 
to  her  without  listeners.  It  was  his 
duty  to  assist  her  in  entering  and  alight- 
ing from  her  carriage,  outside  of  which 
he  was  permitted  to  ride ;  he  accompa- 
nied her  on  her  excursions  by  water, 
and  on  her  rides  on  horseback ;  and 
these  latter  were  so  much  the  more  im- 
portant, as  they  offered  him  to  a  certain 
extent  the  opportunity  of  a  tete-d-tete 
with  the  queen.  For  it  was  only  the 
master  of  the  horse  that  was  permitted 
to  ride  by  her  side ;  he  even  had  prece- 
dence of  the  ladies  of  her  suite,  in  ren- 
dering assistance  to  the  queen,  in  case  of 
any  accident — such  as  that  of  the  horse 
stumbling  or  otherwise.  On  such  occa- 
sions, therefore,  none  of  her  retinue  could 
know  what  conversation  might  pass 
between  the  queen  and  her  master  of 
the  horse. 

We  can  thus  understand  how  influen- 
tial such  a  post  must  have  been.  More- 


THE  NEXT  DAY. 


67 


over,  when  the  queen  was  at  Whitehall 
the  king  was  nearly  always  beside  her ; 
but,  thanks  to  the  daily  increasing  un- 
wieldiness  of  his  body,  he  was  not  in  a 
condition  to  leave  the  palace,  otherwise 
than  in  a  carriage. 

It  was  therefore  very  natural  that  the 
whole  body  of  courtiers  should  look  for- 
ward with  strained  attention  and  sus- 
pended breathing  to  the  moment  when 
the  chamberlain  should  designate  these 
two  important  personages,  whose  names 
had  been  kept  so  secret,  that  no  one  had 
yet  been  able  to  discover  them.  It  was 
only  this  morning  that  the  king  had  in- 
scribed these  names  upon  the  list  before 
handing  it  to  the  chamberlain. 

But  not  only  the  court,  but  even  the 
king  himself,  looked  with  anxiety  to  the 
mention  of  these  two  names.  For 
Henry  wished  to  see  the  effect  which 
they  might  produce,  and  to  discover  by 
the  varied  expression  of  the  countenan- 
ces of  his  courtiers,  who  the  friends 
were  of  the  two  nominees.  The  young 
queen  alone  evinced  her  usual  unaffected 
cordiality — her  heart  alone  beat  with 
unmoved  composure — she  did  not  for  a 
moment  suspect  the  importance  of  the 
point  of  issue. 

Even  the  voice  of  the  lord  chamber- 
lain trembled  a  little  as  he  now  read : 
"To  the  office  of  chamberlain  to  the 
queen,  his  majesty  appoints  my  Lord 
Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey." 

A  murmur  of  approbation   was    au- 
dible, and  an  agreeable  surprise  became 
evident  in  the  faces  of  nearly  all. 
1  "  He  has  a  good  many  friends,"  mut- 
tered the    king  to  himself.      "He   is 


therefore  dangerous."  An  angry  glance 
from  his  eye  met  the  youthful  earl,  who 
was  just  approaching  the  young  queen, 
to  bend  his  knee  before  her,  and  to 
kiss  the  hand  which  was  extended  to 
him. 

Behind  the  queen  stood  Lady  Jane, 
and  when  she  saw  the  young,  handsome, 
long-sighed-for,  and  secretly-worshipped 
noble  so  near  her,  and  when  she  thought 
of  her  vow,  she  felt  an  angry  pang  and  a 
poignant  jealousy  against  the  young 
queen,  who,  without  suspecting  it, 
robbed  her  of  the  man  she  loved,  and 
condemned  her  to  the  fearful  agony  of 
being  herself  the  instrument  of  her  own 
unhappiness. 

The  chamberlain  now  read  with  loud 
and  solemn  voice:  "To  the  office  of 
master  of  the  horse  to  the  queen,  his 
majesty  appoints  my  Lord  Thomas  Sey- 
mour, Earl  of  Sudley." 

It  was  well  that  the  king,  at  this  mo- 
ment, had  directed  his  whole  attention 
to  his  courtiers,  and  sought  to  read  in 
their  features  the  impression  which  the 
appointment  produced. 

Had  he  observed  his  young  spouse,  he 
would  have  perceived  how  an  expres- 
sion of  joyful  astonishment  overspread 
the  face  of  Katharine,  and  how  a  sweet 
smile  played  around  her  lips. 

But  the  king,  as  we  have  said, 
thought  only  of  his  court ;  he  only  saw 
that  the  number  of  those  who  rejoiced 
at  Seymour's  appointment,  did  not 
nearly  equal  that  of  the  others  who  had 
received  the  appointment  of  Surrey 
with  such  marked  approbation. 

Henry's  brow  became  contracted,  and 


68 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


he  muttered  to  himself:  "These  How- 
ards are  too  powerful.  I  shall  keep  a 
watchful  eye  upon  them." 

In  his  turn,  Thomas  Seymour  ap- 
proached the  queen,  and,  bending  his 
knee,  kissed  her  hand.  Katharine  re- 
ceived him  with  a  kindly  smile.  "  My 
lord,"  she  said,  "  you  are  at  once  to  en- 
ter upon  your  attendance  with  me,  and 
in  a  way  too  which  I  trust  will  be 
agreeable  to  all  the  court.  You  will  be 
pleased,  my  lord,  to  mount  your  swiftest 


courser,  and  hasten  to  the  palace  of 
Holt,  where  the  Princess  Elizabeth  is 
staying.  Give  her  .this  letter  from  'her 
royal  father,  and  she  will  follow  you 
hither.  Tell  her  that  I  long  to  embrace 
her  as  a  friend  and  a  sister,  and  that  I 
trust  she  will  forgive  me,  if  I  cannot  re- 
sign to  her  the  whole  heart  of  her  king 
and  father,  but  would  still  keep  therein  a 
place  for  myself.  Hasten  to  the  palace 
of  Holt,  my  lord,  and  bring  with  you  the 
Princess  Elizabeth." 


BOOK  H 


THE      CHASE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THB  KING'S  JESTEB. 

Two  years  had  elapsed  since  the 
king's  marriage,  and  still  Katharine 
Parr  had  maintained  herself  in  favor 
with  her  husband.  As  yet  her  enemies 
had  not  heen  able  to  succeed  in  their 
efforts  to  overthrow  her,  and  raise  a 
seventh  queen  to  the  throne. 

Katharine  had  always  been  cautious 
and  circumspect.  She  had  always  kept 
her  head  and  her  heart  cool;  she  had 
said  to  herself  every  morning,  that  tbis 
day  might  possibly  be  her  last — that 
some  thoughtless  word  or  inconsiderate 
act  might  deprive  her  of  her  crown  and 
of  her  life.  For  Henry's  fierce  and 
cruel  disposition  seemed,  like  his  bodily 
ailments,  to  increase  each  day.  It 
needed  but  a  trifle  to  excite  him  to  the 
highest  fury — to  a  fury  which  smote 
with  a  fatal  blow  the  individual  who 
had  roused  his  anger. 

It  was  this  consciousness  and  this 
knowledge  which  had  made  the  queen 


circumspect.  She  did  not  yet  wish  to 
die.  She  loved  life  still — the  more  so, 
as  it  had  hitherto  afforded  her  so  few 
pleasures :  she  still  loved  it  because  she 
hoped  for  so  much  happiness — for  so 
many  joys  and  delights,  yet  to  come. 

No.  She  did  not  wish  to  die;  for 
she  looked  forward  to  life,  of  which  she 
had  already  had  but  a  dim  foreshadowing 
in  her  dreams,  and  of  which  her  trem- 
bling and  anxious  heart  told  her  that 
life  was  at  length  ready  to  wake  within 
her,  and  to  rouse  her  with  eyes  of  sunny 
brightness  from  the  winter  sleep  of  her 
existence. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  in  spring. 
Katharine  wished  to  avail  herself  of  it, 
in  order  to  take  an  airing  on  horseback, 
and  to  forget  for  a  few  hours  that  she 
was  a  queen.  She  was  anxious  to  enjoy 
a  ride  in  the  forest — to  inhale  the  mild 
breezes  of  May— to  hear  the  song  of  the 
wild  birds — to  gaze  upon  the  verdant 
fields,  and  to  breathe  the  balmy  air  of 
spring. 

She  wished  to  ride.  No  one  sus- 
pected how  mnch  secret  pleasure  and 


70 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


hidden  delight  was  contained  in  these 
words.  No  one  suspected  that  for 
months  she  had  looked  forward  to  this 
excursion  on  horseback,  albeit  she  had 
scarcely  ventured  to  wish  for  it — just 
because  it  would  be  the  fulfilment  of  her 
anxious  desires. 

She  had  already  put  on  her  riding- 
habit  ;  and  the  little  red  velvet  hat,  with 
the  long,  white  waving  plume,  already 
adorned  her  beautiful  head.  Pacing  up 
and  down  her  apartment,  she  only 
awaited  the  return  of  her  chamberlain, 
whom  she  had  sent  to  the  king,  to  know 
if  he  wished  to  see  her  before  going  out 
for  her  excursion. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened,  and  a 
strange  apparition  stood  upon  the  thresh- 
old. This  was  a  little  shrivelled  old 
man,  wrapped  in  a  garment  of  reddish- 
purple  silk,  which  was  neatly  adorned 
with  puffs  of  many  colors,  and  which, 
in  its  various  hues  and  tints,  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  white  hair  and  the 
dark,  determined  countenance  of  the  old 
man. 

"  Ah !  the  king's  jester,"  said  Katha- 
rine, with  a  merry  laugh.  "  Well,  John 
Hey  wood,  and  what  brings  you  here  now  ? 
Have  you  any  message  from  the  king  ? 
or  have  you  been  playing  some  of  your 
sly  tricks  again,  and  do  you  want  me  to 
take  you  under  my  protection  ?  " 

"No,  your  majesty,"  replied  John 
Hey  wood,  gravely,  "I  have  not  been 
playing  any  foolish  tricks,  and  I  don't 
bring  you  any  message  from  the  king. 
I  only  bring  you  myself.  Ah,  my  lady 
queen,  I  see  you  are  disposed  to  laugh, 
but  I  beg  you  will  not  forget  for  a  mo- 


ment that  John  Hey  wood  is  the  king's 
jester,  and  that  it  does  not  become  him 
to  wear  a  serious  look  and  have  grave 
thoughts  like  other  men." 

"  Oh,  I  am  aware  you  are  not  only 
the  king's  jester,  but  also  a  poet,"  said 
Katharine,  with  a  gracious  smile. 

"  Yes,"  he  returned,  "  I  am  a  poet, 
and  for  that  reason  it  is  quite  right  that 
I  should  wear  this  fool's  cap — for  poets 
are  all  fools,  and  it  would  be  better  for 
them  if  they  were  taken  and  suspended 
from  the  next  tree,  rather  than  be  al- 
lowed to  run  about  in  their  mad  ecstasy 
and  prate  of  things  in  a  way  that  must 
make  them  the  scorn  and  derision  of 
reasonable  people.  Yes,  queen,  I  am  a 
poet,  and  therefore  I  have  donned  the 
fool's  livery  that  I  wear,  which  puts  me 
under  the  king's  protection,  and  suffers 
me  to  tell  him  now  and  then  strange 
truths  which  nobody  else  would  have 
the  hardihood  to  utter.  But  to-day, 
queen,  I  come  to  you  neither  as  a  fool  nor 
as  a  poet,  but  I  come  to  embrace  your 
knees  and  lay  my  thanks  at  your  feet.  I 
come  to  tell  you  that  you  have  made 
John  Heywood  forever  your  slave. 
Henceforth  he  will  lie  at  your  door  like 
a  faithful  dog,  and  watch  you  against 
every  enemy  and  every  insidious  attack 
vthat  might  threaten  to  reach  you.  Night 
and  day  he  will  be  ready  at  your  service, 
and  will  take  neither  rest  nor  repose, 
when  a  command  or  a  wish  of  yours  is 
to  be  fulfilled." 

And  while  he  thus  spoke  with  falter- 
ing voice,  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
he  knelt  down  and  bent  his  head  at 
Katharine's  feet. 


THE  KING'S  JESTER. 


"  But  what  have  I  done  to  inspire  you 
with  such  a  feeling  of  gratitude  ?  "  said 
Katharine,  astonished.  "How  have  I 
deserved  that  you,  the  powerful  favorite 
of  the  king,  and  dreaded  by  all,  should 
devote  yourself  to  my  service  ?  " 

"  What  have  you  done  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  My  liege  queen,  you  have  saved  my 
son  from  the  scaffold.  They  had  con- 
demned him  ;  yes,  they  had  condemned 
this  fine,  noble  young  man  for  having 
spoken  with  reverence  of  Sir  Thomas 
More — for  having  said  that  that  great 
and  good  man  had  done  right  in  prefer- 
ring to  die,  rather  than  forswear  his  con- 
victions. Ah,  in  our  times  it  is  such  a 
mere  trifle  to  be  condemned  to  death — 
that  even  a  thoughtless  word  is  enough 
to  do  so.  And  this  wretched,  lick-spittle 
Parliament,  in  its  cringing  baseness,  al- 
ways judges  and  condemns,  for  it  knows 
that  King  Henry  is  always  athirst  for 
blood,  and  hankers  for  the  stake  and 
the  gibbet.  They  had  consequently  con- 
demned my  son;  and  were  it  not  for 
your  majesty's  intercession,  they  would 
have  taken  his  life.  But  you,  whom  God 
has  placed  as  a  conciliating  angel  upon 
a  royal  throne  dripping  with  blood ;  you, 
who  daily  put  your  life  and  your  crown 
in  jeopardy  for  the  safety  and  pardon  of 
those  unhappy  beings  who  are  con- 
demned by  fanaticism — you  have  also 
saved  my  son." 

"What!  Was  the  young  man  who 
was  yesterday  to  be  sent  to  the  scaffold 
your  son  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  he  was  my  son,  my  own  son." 

"  And  you  did  not  tell  the  king  so,  nor 
intercede  for  him  ? " 


"Had  I  done  so,  he  would  inevitably 
have  been  lost.  For  you  know  the  king 
is  so  sensitive  upon  his  impartiality  and 
his  virtue.  Oh,  had  he  known  that 
Thomas  was  my  son,  he  would  have  con- 
demned him,  in  order  to  show  his  people 
that  Henry  the  Eighth  everywhere 
strikes  down  the  guilty,  and  punishes  the 
offender,  whatever  may  be  his  name,  and 
whoever  may  intercede  for  him.  Nay, 
even  your  majesty's  entreaties  would  not 
have  saved  him ;  for  the  high-priest  of 
the  English  Church  would  never  have 
been  able  to  par*don  the  circumstance 
that  this  poor  young  man  was  not  the 
legitimate  son  of  his  father,  that  he  had 
no  right  to  bear  his  name,  but  that  his 
mother  was  the  wife  of  another,  whom 
Thomas  must  call  his  father." 

"  Poor  Hey  wood !  Yes,  I  now  under- 
stand. Certainly  the  king  would  never 
have  pardoned  this,  and  if  he  knew  it, 
your  son  would  have  been  irretrievably 
lost." 

"  You  have  saved  him,  my  queen.  Do 
you  now  believe  that  I  shall  be  eternally 
grateful  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  believe  it,"  said  the  queen,  with  a 
sweet  and  gracious  smile,  while  she  pre- 
sented her  hand  for  him  to  kiss.  "I 
believe  you,  and  I  accept  your  ser- 
vices." 

"And  your  majesty  will  stand  in 
need  of  them,  for  a  storm  is  gathering 
over  your  head,  and  the  thunder  will 
soon  roll,  and  the  lightning  flash." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid  of  that,"  said 
Katharine,  smiling.  "If  a  storm  should 
come,  it  will  serve  to  clear  and  purify 
the  atmosphere,  and  we  know  that 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


after  a  hurricane  frequently  comes  sun- 
shine." 

"You  have  a  stout  heart,"  said  John 
Heywood,  pensively. 

"That  is  to  say,  I  am  not  conscious  of 
any  guilt." 

"  But  your  enemies  will  impute  guilt 
to  you.  Ah,  when  the  question  is  to 
calumniate  a  fellow-being  and  bring  him 
to  ruin,  men,  ay,  and  women  too,  have 
fertile  imaginations — they  are  all  poets." 

"But  you  have  just  said  that  poets  are 
mad,  and  that  they  should  be  hung  from 
the  next  tree.  We  shall  therefore  treat 
these  slanderers  as  poets — that  is  all." 

"No,  that  is  not  all,"  said  John  Hey- 
wood, with  energy ;  "  for  slanderers  are 
like  earthworms.  You  may  cut  them 
in  pieces,  but  instead  of  killing  them,  you 
will  only  multiply  each,  and  give  it  sev- 
eral heads." 

"But  what  do  they  accuse  me  of?" 
exclaimed  Katharine,  impatiently.  "  Is 
not  my  life  blameless  and  patent  to  all 
men  ?  Do  I  ever  take  pains  to  have  any 
secrets  ?  Is  not  my  heart,  on  the  con- 
trary, like  a  house  of  glass,  into  which 
you  all  may  look,  and  perceive  that  it  is 
an  unfruitful  soil,  and  that  not  even  one 
solitary  little  flower  grows  therein  ?  " 

"Exactly  so;  but  your  enemies  will 
sow  weeds  in  it,  and  make  the  king  be- 
lieve that  they  are  the  growth  of  a  con- 
suming love  which  has  sprung  up  in 
your  heart." 

"  What !  Accuse  me  of  an  unlawful 
passion?"  asked  Katharine,  while  her 
lips  trembled  visibly. 

"As  yet,  I  know  not  their  plans,  but  I 
;  shall  discover  them.  A  conspiracy  is 


brooding.  Be,  therefore,  on  your  guard* 
my  queen.  Trust  nobody,  for  enemies 
always  conceal  themselves  under  the 
mask  of  hypocrisy  and  flattering  words." 

"  If  you  know  my  enemies,  name  them 
to  me,"  said  Katharine  impatiently. 
"  Name  them  to  me,  that  I  may  guard 
against  them." 

"  I  am  not  here  to  accuse  any  one,  but 
to  bid  you  be  watchful.  I  shall  there- 
fore be  careful  not  to  designate  your 
enemies,  but  I  will  tell  you  who  your 
friends  are." 

"Ah,  then  I  have  friends  too?"  said 
Katharine,  with  a  quiet  and  gratified 
smile. 

"Yes,  you  have  friends,  and  those 
friends  are  ready  to  shed  their  hearts' 
blood  for  you  if  necessary." 

"  Oh,  pray  name  them — name  them  1  " 
cried  Katharine,  trembling  with  joyful 
eagerness. 

"  I  name  first  of  all  Cranmer,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury.  He  is  your  true 
and  faithful  friend,  upon  whom  you  may 
safely  rely.  He  loves  you  as  his  queen 
and  esteems  you  as  the  colleague  whom 
God  has  sent  him,  in  order  here  at  the 
court  of  our  most  Christian  and  most 
blood-thirsty  sovereign,  to  bring  the 
blessed  work  of  the  Keformation  to  a 
successful  issue,  and  to  cause  the  light 
of  knowledge  to  illuminate  this  night 
of  papal  error  and  superstition.  Build 
firmly  upon  Cranmer,  for  he  is  your  sur- 
est and  most  steadfast  support;  and 
were  he  to  fall,  your  own  downfall  would 
be  the  inevitable  result." 

"  Yes,  you  are  right,"  said  the  queen, 
thoughtfully.  "  Cranmer  is  a  noble  and 


THE   KING'S  JESTER. 


73 


Constant  friend,  and  very  often  already 
be  has  taken  my  part  with  the  king 
against  the  petty  darts  of  my  enemies, 
which  do  not  indeed  kill,  bat  make  the 
whole  body  sore  and  ill  at  ease." 

"  Protect  him — as  you  value  your  own 
safety." 

44  Well,  and  the  other  friends  ? " 

"  I  have  given  precedence  to  Cranmer, 
but  now,  my  queen,  I  name  myself,  as 
the  second  of  your  friends.  As  the 
archbishop  is  your  stanch  upholder,  so 
will  I  be  your  watch-dog,  and,  believe 
me,  while  you  have  such  a  trusty  sup- 
porter and  such  a  faithful  watch -dog,  you 
are  out  of  danger.  Cranmer  will  warn 
you  of  every  stumbling-block  that  may 
cross  your  path,  and  I  shall  bark  and 
bite  at  the  enemies  that  lurk  in  ambush 
behind  the  thicket,  in  order  to  attack 
you  unawares." 

"I  thank  you  sincerely,"  said  Katha- 
rine, with  cordiality.  "Now  pray  con- 
tinue." 

"  Continue  ?  "  said  Hey  wood,  with  a 
sad  smile. 

"  Yes,  name  some  of  my  other  friends." 

"Ah,  my  queen,  it  is  much,  very 
much,  to  have  found  two  friends  in  life 
upon  whom  we  can  depend,  and  whose 
constancy  is  not  determined  by  selfish  mo- 
tives. You  are  perhaps  the  only  crowned 
head  that  can  boast  of  such  friends." 

"  I  am  a  woman,"  said  Katharine,  pen- 
sively, "and  many  ladies  surround  me. 
and  daily  vow  their  unchanging  fidelity 
and  attachment.  And  am  I  to  consider 
all  these  as  unworthy  the  name  of 
friends  ?  Not  even  Lady  Jane  Douglas, 
whom  I  regard  as  one  of  my  early 


friends,  and  in  whom  I  confide  as  in  a 
sister?  Tell  me,  John  Hey  wood,  you 
who  are  said  to  know  and  discover  what- 
ever passes  at  this  court — tell  me,  is  not 
Lady  Jane  Douglas  my  friend  ? " 

John  Hey  wood  suddenly  became 
grave  and  silent,  and  seemed  lost  in 
thought.  At  length,  he  opened  his 
large  lustrous  eyes  and  looked  inquiring- 
ly around  the  room,  as  if  to  convince 
himself  that  there  was  really  no  listener 
concealed,  and  advancing  close  to  the 
queen,  he  whispered : 

"  Trust  her  not — she  is  a  papist,  and 
Gardiner  is  her  friend." 

"  Ah,  I  suspected  it,"  murmured  Kath- 
arine, sadly. 

"But  listen,  my  queen, — do  not  let 
this  suspicion  escape  you  by  word  or 
look,  or  by  the  slightest  intimation  of 
any  kind.  Lull  this  viper,  in  the  belief 
that  you  think  her  harmless.  Lull  her 
to  sleep,  I  say.  She  is  a  venomous  and 
deadly  serpent,  that  must  not  be  pro- 
voked, lest  she  should  bite  you  before 
you  could  suspect  it.  Only  remember, 
queen,  not  to  confide  to  Lady  Jane  what 
you  would  not  tell  Gardiner  and  Lord 
Douglas.  Oh,  believe  me,  she  is  like  the 
lion  in  the  doge's  palace  at  Venice :  the 
secrets  which  you  confide  to  her  will  rise 
up  in  evidence  against  you  at  the  bloody 
tribunal." 

Katharine  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

"You  judge  too  severely,  John  Hey- 
wood.  The  religion  to  which  she  secret- 
ly adheres  may  possibly  have  estranged 
her  heart  from  me,  but  she  would  never 
be  so  base  as  to  betray  me,  or  ally  herself 
with  my  enemies.  N"o,  good  John,  you  de- 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


ceive  yourself.  It  would  be  culpable  in 
me  to  believe  what  you  say.  What  a 
wicked  and  miserable  world  it  would  be 
if  we  dared  not  trust  our  most  beloved 
#nd  faithful  friends  !  " 

"  Ay,  indeed  the  world  is  wicked  and 
miserable,  and  we  must  distrust  it,  or 
else  regard  it  as  a  merry  pastime  with 
which  the  devil  tickles  our  fancy.  For 
me  it  is  such  a  pastime,  queen,  and 
therefore  I  became  the  king's  jester, 
which  at  least  affords  me  the  privilege 
of  spreading  all  the  venom  of  human 
contempt  over  the  crawling  brood  of 
courtiers,  and  of  telling  the  truth  to 
those  from  whose  tongues  falsehood  is 
always  dripping  like  a  honey-comb. 
"Wise  men  and  poets  are  the  proper  fools 
of  our  time ;  and  as  I  did  not  feel  within 
me  the  vocation  to  be  a  king  or  a  philos- 
opher— a  hangman  or  a  victim,  I  became 
the  king's  fool." 

"  Yes,  that  is  to  say,  a  dealer  in  epi- 
grams whose  caustic  tongue  makes  all 
the  court  tremble." 

"  As  I  cannot  send  the  culprits  to  the 
scaffold,  like  my  royal  master,  I  give 
them  the  sharp  edge  of  my  tongue ;  and 
I  assure  your  majesty  you  will  stand 
sorely  in  need  of  this  ally.  Be  on  your 
guard,  queen.  This  very  morning  I 
heard  the  first  growl  of  the  thunder,  and 
saw  latent  gleams  of  lightning  in  the  eyes 
of  Lady  Jane.  Trust  her  not :  trust  no- 
body here  but  your  friends.  Cranmer 
and  John  Hey  wood." 

"  And  you  say  that  amongst  all  the 
brilliant  ladies,  and  all  the  noble  and 
chivalrous  cavaliers  at  this  court,  the 
poor  queen  has  not  a  single  friend,  not  a 


soul  in  whom  she  can  confide  ?  Oh,  John 
Hey  wood,  recollect  yourself;  have  pity 
upon  a  helpless  queen;  pray  recollect 
yourself.  Only  you  both — no  other 
friend,  say  you  ?  " 

And  the  eyes  of  the  queen  filled  with 
tears  which  she  strove  in  vain  to  check. 

John  Heywood  perceived  it,  and 
sighed  deeply.  Better,  perhaps,  than 
the  queen  herself,  he  had  read  the 
thoughts  of  her  heart,  and  knew  its 
secret  wounds.  But  he  had  compassion 
for  her  suffering,  and  wished  to  mitigate 
it  as  far  as  he  could. 

"  Yes,  I  recollect,"  he  murmured,  in  a 
low  voice.  "I  now  recollect  you  have 
a  third  friend  at  this  court." 

"Ah!  a  third  friend!"  exclaimed 
Katharine, .  in  a  tone  which  betokened 
secret  joy.  "Pray,  who  is  it — who  is 
he  ?  I  am  quite  impatient  to  know  his 
name." 

With  a  peculiar  and  inquiring  glance, 
and  with  a  pensive  and  expressive  gazet 
John  Heywood  looked  into  the  glowing 
features  of  Katharine,  and  for  a  moment 
he  dropped  his  head  upon  his  breast  and 
sighed. 

"  Well,  John,  name  this  third  friend  of 
mine." 

"Do  you  not  know  who  it  is,  ray 
queen  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  at  her  once 
more  with  a  firm  and  fixed  gaze.  "Do 
you  not  know  him  ?  It  is  Thomas  Sey- 
mour, Lord  Sudley." 

A  gleam  of  sunshine  seemed  to  pass 
over  the  countenance  of  Katharine,  and 
she  uttered  a  faint  cry. 

John  Heywood  resumed,  in  pensive 
tones : 


THE   KING'S  JESTER. 


75 


"  Queen,  the  sun  shines  directly  upon 
your  face,  beware  lest  it  dazzle  your 
"bright  eyes.  Eepose  in  the  shade,  and 
— but,  hark!  here  conies  one  who  would 
be  quite  capable  of  affirming  that  the 
sunshine  in  your  countenance  was  a  con- 
flagration." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and 
Lady  Jane  Douglas  appeared  at  the 
threshold.  She  cast  a  rapid,  inquiring 
glance  around  the  apartment,  and  a  faint 
smile  passed  over  her  pale  and  beautiful 
features. 

"Your  majesty,"  she  said,  uall  is 
ready,  and  only  awaits  yonr  commands. 
The  Princess  Elizabeth  is  in  the  ante- 
chamber, and  your  master  of  the  horse 
already  holds  your  stirrup." 

"  And  the  chamberlain  ? "  asked 
Katharine,  slightly  blushing ;  "  has  he 
no  message  for  me  from  the  king  ?  " 

44  Yes,"  said  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  enter- 
ing. "His  majesty  bids  me  tell  the 
queen  that  she  may  extend  her  ride  as 
far  as  may  be  agreeable.  This  delight- 
ful weather  deserves  that  the  Queen  of 
England  should  enjoy  it,  and  enter  into 
rivalry  with  the  sun." 

"  Oh,  the  king  is  the  most  gallant  of 
cavaliers,"  returned  Katharine,  with  a 
smile  of  satisfaction.  "Now,  Jane, 
come,  let  us  mount." 

"  Your  majesty  will  pardon  me,"  said 
Lady  Jane,  drawing  back ;  "  but  I  may 
not  enjoy  the  favor  of  accompanying 
you  to  day,  as  Lady  Anne  Ettersville  is 
at  present  in  attendance." 

"Very  well,  Jane;  another  time, 
then.  And  you,  my  Lord  Douglas,  do 
you  not  join  in  our  excursion  ? " 


"  The  king  has  commanded  my  attend- 
ance in  his  closet,  your  majesty." 

"  Now,  only  think !  Here  is  a  queen, 
abandoned  by  all  her  friends,"  said 
Katharine,  in  a  tone  of  lively  raillery; 
while,  with  a  light,  elastic  step,  she 
crossed  the  saloon,  and  proceeded  to  the 
court-yard. 

u  There  is  something  going  on  here 
which  I  must  find  out,"  muttered 
John  Heywood,  who,  with  the  others, 
had  left  the  room.  "  A  mouse- trap  has 
been  laid,  for  the  cats  are  staying  at 
home,  and  are  hungry  for  their  prey." 

Lady  Jane,  however,  remained  behind 
in  the  saloon  with  her  father.  They 
both  advanced  to  the  window,  and 
looked  down  in  silence  into  the  court- 
yard, where  now  the  brilliant  cavalcade 
of  the  queen,  with  all  her  attendants, 
were  mingled  together. 

Katharine  had  just  mounted  her 
horse.  The  noble  animal,  who  knew 
his  mistress,  neighed  loudly,  while  he 
pranced  and  snorted  under  his  royal 
burden. 

The  Princess  Elizabeth,  who  kept  be- 
side the  queen,  uttered  a  cry  of  terror. 

"Your  majesty  will  fall,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  Your  steed  is  such  a  high- 
spirited  and  wayward  animal." 

"Oh,  not  at  all,"  said  Katharine,  smil- 
ing. "  Hector  is  a  quiet  horse,  only  he 
is  somewhat  like  myself  to-day.  The 
fresh  May  breeze  has  made  us  both 
rather  lively  and  mettlesome.  Let  us 
away  then,  my  lords  and  ladies;  our 
horses  must  put  on  their  best  speed  to- 
day :  we  ride  to  Epping  Forest." 

And  through  the  open  gates  of  the 


HENRY   VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


court-yard  rushed  the  goodly  cavalcade. 
The  queen  led  the  procession ;  on  her 
right  was  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  on  her 
left  the  master  of  the  horse,  Thomas 
Seymour. 

"When  the  queen  and  her  retinue  had 
vanished,  the  father  and  daughter  with- 
drew from  the  window,  and  exchanged  a 
glance  of  peculiar  significance. 

"  Well,  Jane,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  at 
length,  "she  is  still  queen,  and  the 
king's  health  is  daily  growing  more 
feeble  and  uncertain.  It  is  quite  time 
that  we  should  present  him  with  a  sev- 
enth queen." 

"  Very  soon,  dear  father;  very  soon." 

"Does  she  love  Henry  Howard  at 
last?" 

"  Yes,  he  loves  her,'1*  said  Lady  Jane, 
while  her  features  became  deadly  pale. 

"  I  ask  you  if  the  queen  loves  Mm  f  " 

"She  will  love  him,"  murmured 
Lady  Jane;  and  then,  suddenly  recov- 
ering herself,  she  continued  :  "  But  it  is 
not  enough  to  make  the  queen  enamoured 
of  the  Earl  of  Surrey ;  it  would  doubt- 
less be  more  effectual  if  the  king  could 
be  inspired  with  a  new  passion.  Did 
you  observe,  my  father,  with  what 
ardent  looks  the  king  yesterday  re- 
garded the  Duchess  of  Eichmond  and 
myself? " 

"Did  I  observe  it?  Why,  all  the 
court  noticed  and  spoke  of  it!  " 

"  Well,  then,  make  the  king  feel  des- 
perately ennuye  to-day,  and  then  bring 
him  to  me.  He  will  find  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond  and  myself  together." 

"An  excellent  idea!  Come,  Jane, 
you  will  yet  be  Henry's  seventh  wife." 


"  I  shall  at  least  overthrow  Katharine 
Parr,  for  she  is  my  rival,  and  I  hate 
her,"  said  Lady  Jane,  with  glowing 
cheeks  and  flashing  eyes.  She  has 
already  been  queen  long  enough,  and  I 
have  bowed  before  her.  She  shall  now 
sink  into  the  dust  before  me,  and  I  will 
put  my  heel  upon  her  neck !  " 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE     EXCURSION. 

THE  morning  was  delightful.  The 
dew  was  still  upon  the  grass  on  the 
meadows,  over  which  they  rode  before 
entering  the  thick  of  the  forest,  in  the 
trees  of  which  gay  song-birds  piped 
their  wild,  melodious  lays.  They 
pressed  forward  along  the  course  of  a 
murmuring  brook,  and  observed  the 
herds  of  wild  deer  which  flocked  to- 
gether in  an  open  glade  of  the  forest,  as 
if,  like  the  queen  and  her  retinue,  they 
would  listen  to  the  warbling  of  the 
birds  and  the  murmur  of  the  rivulet. 

Katharine  felt  an  indescribable  sensa- 
tion of  happiness,  which  made  her 
bosom  swell  with  inward  delight.  To- 
day she  was  no  longer  the  queen,  sur- 
rounded by  dangers  and  by  enemies; 
not  the  wife  of  an  unloved  and  tyranni- 
cal husband — not  the  queen,  fettered  by 
the  trammels  of  etiquette.  She  was  a 
free  and  happy  woman,  who,  with  hope- 
ful yearning,  looks  forward  smilingly  to 
the  future,  and  says  to  the  fleeting 


THE  EXCURSION. 


77 


hours:  "Stay,  stay,  for  ye  are  laden 
with  delights!" 

The  happiness  of  the  present  hour  -was 
a  visioned  bliss,  borrowed  from  the 
dreamland  of  the  future.  Ah,  Katharine 
would  joyfully  have  relinquished  her 
crown  if  she  could  have  rendered  this 
hour  enduring. 

He  was  at  her  side.  He  of  whom  John 
Heywood  had  told  her,  that  he  was  one 
of  her  most  steadfast  and  faithful  friends. 
He  was  there.  And  if  she  did  not  ven- 
ture to  look  at  him  often,  or  often  to  ad- 
dress him,  yet  she  felt  his  proximity,  and 
felt,  too,  that  the  glowing  beams  from 
his  eyes  fell  upon  her  features  like  a  con- 
suming fire.  No  one  could  observe 
them,  for  the  members  of  the  court  rode 
at  some  distance  in  the  rear,  and  before 
and  around  them  was  nothing  but  the 
love-breathing  and  smiling  landscape, 
with  the  bright  and  beautiful  sky  above 
them. 

Katharine  had  meanwhile  forgotten 
that  she  was  not  quite  alone,  and  that  if 
Thomas  Seymour  rode  at  her  left,  the 
Princess  Elizabeth  rode  at  her  right — 
this  youthful  girl  of  fourteen,  who 
amidst  fiery  ordeals  and  the  storms  of 
ill-fortune,  had  suddenly  sprung  up  to 
precocious  womanhood,  and  whose  heart 
had  reached  early  maturity  amidst  the 
tears  and  bitter  experience  of  her  un- 
happy childhood.  Elizabeth — the  child 
in  years,  had  nevertheless  the  strong  and 
ardent  feelings  of  a  woman.  Elizabeth 
— the  rejected  and  disinherited  princess, 
had  still  inherited  from  her  father  his 
pride  and  ambition ;  and  when  she  looked 
at  the  queen,  and  perceived  the  email 


crown  studded  with  diamonds,  which 
she  wore  over  her  velvet  riding-cap,  she 
felt  a  keen  inward  pang,  and  thought  to 
herself  with  bitter  regret  that  this  crown 
was  destined  never  to  adorn  her  own 
brow,  as  the  king  had  excluded  her  from 
the  succession  by  a  solemn  act  of  Par- 
liament. 

But  the  pain  which  she  felt  upon  this 
subject  had,  for  some  weeks  past,  be- 
come somewhat  mitigated.  Another 
feeling  had  overpowered  it.  Elizabeth, 
who  knew  that  she  should  not  be  a 
queen  or  a  ruler,  wished  at  least  to  en- 
joy the  privileges  of  a  woman.  As  she 
had  been  denied  the  chance  of  wearing  a 
crown,  she  would  at  least  enjoy  the  hap- 
piness of  her  sex ;  if  not  a  crown  of  gold, 
at  least  a  myrtle- wreath  should  deck  her 
brow. 

She  had  been  early  taught  by  experi- 
ence to  understand  her  own  feelings,  and 
she  did  not  now  shrink  from  examin- 
ing with  a  firm  and  steady  gaze  the  sen- 
timents which  were  uppermost  in  her 
heart. 

Yes — she  knew  that  she  loved,  and 
that  Thomas  Seymour  was  the  object  of 
her  affection. 

But  on  the  part  of  the  earl — did  he 
return  her  love  ?  Did  he  understand  the 
heart  of  the  young  girl  ?  Had  he  rec- 
ognized under  her  childish  aspect  the 
proud  and  passion-glowing  woman  ?  Had 
he  discovered  the  secrets  of  this  timid 
and  maidenly,  and  yet  withal  this  ardent 
and  energetic  spirit? 

Thomas  Seymour  had  never  yet  be- 
trayed a  secret ;  and  what  he  had  read, 
perad venture,  in  the  eyes  of  the  prin- 


T8 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


cess,  and  what,  perchance,  he  had  said  to 
her  in  the  quiet  shady  walks  of  Hampton 
Court,  or  in  the  long  dark  corridors  of 
Whitehall — nohody  knew  but  them- 
selves ;  for  Elizabeth  had  a  strong  mas- 
culine soul ;  she  needed  no  confidant  to 
impart  her  secrets  to;  and  Thomas  Sey- 
mour would  have  been  apprehensive  lest 
he  should  make  for  himself — like  the  im- 
mortal barber  of  Midas — a  hole,  and  ut- 
ter his  secret  therein  ;  for  he  knew  well 
that  if  the  reed  should  grow  up  and  re- 
peat his  words,  he  would  have  to  lay  his 
head  upon  the  block. 

Poor  princess!  She  did  not  suspect 
that  the  secret  of  the  earl  and  her  own 
were  not  one  and  the  same.  She  did 
not  suspect  that  if  Thomas  Seymour  dis- 
covered her  secret,  he  would  only  use  it, 
perhaps,  for  the  purpose  of  making  it  a 
glittering  foil  to  his  own  secret. 

Like  Elizabeth,  he  too  had  seen  the 
jewelled  crown  upon  the  brow  of  the 
young  queen,  and  he  had  observed  how 
old  and  tottering  the  king  was  looking 
of  late. 

As  he  now  rode  beside  the  two  prin- 
cesses, he  felt  his  heart  swell  with  proud 
exultation,  while  his  thoughts  were 
occupied  alone  with  bold  and  ambitious 
projects. 

Of  these  thoughts,  however,  his  com- 
panions knew  nothing.  They  were  both 
too  much  taken  up  with  their  own  mus- 
ings ;  and  while  Katharine's  eye,  beam- 
ing with  lustre,  wandered  to  the  scenes 
around  her,  the  brow  of  the  princess  be- 
came slightly  clouded,  and  her  keen 
glance  was  fixed  upon  Thomas  Seymour 
with  eager  watchfulness. 


She  had  observed  those  passionate 
glances  which  he  sometimes  directed 
toward  the  queen;  and  the  slight  and 
almost  imperceptible  tremor  of  his  voice 
in  addressing  Katharine,  had  not  escaped 
her. 

The  Princess  Elizabeth  was  jealous. 
She  felt  the  first  painful  emotions  of  this 
terrible  malady,  which  she  had  inherited 
from  her  father,  and  in  the  feverish  out- 
breaks of  which  the  king  had  sent  two 
of  his  wives  to  the  scaffold. 

She  was  jealous — but  not  of  the 
queen ;  or  rather  she  did  not  think  for 
a  moment  that  the  queen  could  share  or 
return  Seymour's  love.  It  never  oc- 
curred to  her  to  accuse  Katharine  of  any 
complicity  with  the  earl.  She  was  only 
jealous  of  the  glances  which  he  be- 
stowed upon  the  queen ;  and  as  she  con- 
tinued to  observe  those  glances,  she 
could  not  at  the  same  time  perceive  in 
the  eyes  of  her  young  step-mother  the 
subdued  fire  which  was  kindled  in  them 
by  Seymour's  burning  gaze,  and  which 
made  her  countenance  to  glow  visibly. 

But  Thomas  Seymour  had  perceived 
it,  and  had  he  now  been  alone  with 
Katharine,  he  would  have  flung  himself 
at  her  feet,  and  have  confided  to  her  all 
the  deep  and  dangerous  secrets  which 
he  had  so  long  concealed  in  his  bosom, 
and  he  would  have  left  her  the  choice 
either  of  sending  him  to  the  scaffold,  or 
of  accepting  the  love  which  he  cherished 
toward  her. 

But  behind  them  were  the  watchful, 
all-observant  courtiers— there  was  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  who,  had  he  ven- 
tured to  speak  to  the  queen,  would  have 


THE  EXCURSION. 


divined,  from  his  countenance,  the  im- 
port of  the  words  which  she  might  not 
overhear — for  love  has  keen  eyes  and 
jealousy  quick  ears. 

Katharine  suspected  nothing  of  the 
thoughts  of  her  companions.  She  alone 
was  happy.  She  alone  gave  herself  up 
to  the  perfect  enjoyment  of  the  moment. 
She  inhaled  with  serene  delight  the 
pure  air  around  her,  which  was  ren- 
dered fragrant  by  the  wild  flowers  of  the 
forest.  She  listened  with  eager  attention 
to  the  soft  murmurs  of  song,  which  the 
wind  breathed  from  amidst  the  trees. 
Her  wishes  did  not  extend  beyond  the 
present  hour.  She  reposed  in  the  con- 
sciousness and  enjoyment  of  her  lover's 
presence.  Yes,  HE  was  there!  What 
more  was  needful  to  make  her  happy? 

Beyond  the  hour  her  wishes  did  not 
extend.  She  was  only  conscious  how 
delightful  it  was  thus  to  be  at  the  side 
of  her  lover — to  breathe  the  same  air 
that  he  breathed,  to  look  upon  the  same 
bright  sky,  the  same  flowers  upon  which 
his  eye  rested,  and  in  which,  at  least, 
their  eyes  might  meet  in  the  kisses 
which  were  denied  their  lips. 

But  as  they  thus  proceeded  in  silence, 
each  wrapt  up  in  his  own  thoughts, 
the  aid  which  Thomas  Seymour  had 
prayed  for  came,  in  the  shape  of  a  huge 
fly. 

At  first  this  fly  played  and  buzzed 
around  the  nose  of  the  proud  and  fiery 
charger  which  the  queen  rode,  and  be- 
ing observed  by  no  one,  it  remained 
undisturbed  in  Hector's  mane,  and  crept 
quietly  to  the  top  of  the  noble  steed's 
head,  resting  here  and  there,  and  send- 


ing  its  sting 

animal,  until  he  began  to  rear  and  neigh 

with  pain. 

But  Katharine  was  a  bold  and  skilful 
rider,  and  the  uncurbed  mettle  of  her 
steed  only  caused  her  pleasure,  while  it 
gave  her  master  of  the  horse  the  oppor- 
tunity of  praising  her  coolness  and  dex- 
terity. 

Katharine  received  the  compliments 
of  her  lover  with  a  sweet  smile.  The 
fly,  however,  had  crept  along,  until,  in- 
stigated by  a  malicious  pleasure,  it  fixed 
itself  in  the  horse's  ear. 

The  poor  animal,  thus  tormented, 
made  a  dart  forward,  but  this  stride  in- 
stead of  freeing  him  from  his  enemy, 
only  caused  the  latter  to  sink  more 
deeply  into  his  ear,  until  the  sting  of 
the  horse-fly  became  fixed  in  the  fleshy 
part  of  the  ear. 

Goaded  to  madness  by  the  pain,  the 
fiery  animal  became  uncontrollable,  and 
spurning  bit  and  bridle,  suddenly  plunged 
forward,  and  with  furious  speed  darted 
along  through  the  glades  of  the  forest, 
with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow. 

"Help!— help  for  the  queen!" 
shouted  the  master  of  the  horse;  and 
setting  spurs  to  the  flanks  of  his  courser, 
he  flew  after  her  with  impetuous  speed. 

"  Help  for  the  queen !  "  repeated  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  urging  forward  her 
horse,  and  accompanied  by  the  whole 
retinue. 

But  what  is  the  speed  of  ever  so 
quick  but  sober  a  horse,  compared  with 
the  frantic  flcetness  of  an  infuriated 
courser,  who  mocks  the  rein,  and 
springs  forward  foaming  with  a  sense 


80 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


of  unchecked  freedom,  like  an  impetuous 
wave  lashed  into  fury  by  the  storm  ? 

Already  the  glades  lay  far  behind 
them — far  behind  them  the  avenue 
which  led  through  the  forest ; — over 
brooks  and  ditches,  over  plains  and  sand- 
banks, dashed  the  enraged  Hector  with 
terrific  speed. 

Still  the  queen  kept  her  saddle  firmly  ; 
her  cheeks  were  colorless,  and  her  lips 
trembled,  but  her  eye  was  lustrous  and 
clear ;  she  had  not  yet  lost  her  self-pos- 
session, she  was  perfectly  conscious  of 
her  danger.  The  shouts  and  cries 
which  reached  her  at  first,  had  died 
away  for  some  time ;  an  endless  wilder- 
ness and  a  death-like  stillness  now  sur- 
rounded her.  She  heard  nothing  but 
the  panting  and  snorting  of  her  horse, 
and  the  sounds  of  his  hoofs  as  he  darted 
onward. 

But  at  length  the  sounds  of  a  well-be- 
loved voice  fell  upon  her  ear,  and  caused 
her  to  utter  an  exclamation  of  pleasure 
and  delight. 

This  cry,  however,  terrified  the  furi- 
ous animal  afresh.  Panting  and  ex- 
hausted, he  had  for  a  moment  relaxed 
his  furious  speed,  but  he  now  pressed 
forward  with  renewed  ardor  and  fleet- 
ness,  as  if  urged  upon  the  wings  of  the 
wind. 

But  nearer  and  nearer  sounded  the 
beloved  voice ; — ever  nearer  the  foot-fall 
of  his  horse. 

They  soon  found  themselves  upon  a 

large  plain,  entirely  surrounded  by  the 

forest ;  and  while  the  queen's  horse  took 

a   circuitous   course,  that   of  Seymour, 

v      obeying  the   rein    of  his    rider,    went 


straight  across  the  plain,  and  was  now 
close  behind  the  queen. 

"  Only  a  moment  longer !  Hold  your 
arms  round  the  horse's  neck,  lest  you 
should  be  thrown  by  the  shock,  while  I 
seize  him  by  the  bridle !  "  cried  Sey- 
mour; and  setting  spurs  to  his  horse, 
the  latter  darted  forward  with  a  wild 
yell. 

This  yell  roused  Hector  to  fresh  fury, 
and  panting  for  breath,  he  now  plunged 
ahead  into  the  thick  of  the  forest. 

"I  hear  his  voice  no  longer,"  mur- 
mured Katharine;  and  at  length  over- 
come by  fear  and  by  the  dizzy  course, 
and  exhausted  by  her  efforts,  she  closed 
her  eyes,  and  her  senses  seemed  to  have 
left  her. 

But  at  this  moment  a  strong  and  vig- 
orous hand  seized  her  horse's  bridle, 
until  the  animal,  trembling  and  as  it 
were  abashed,  at  discovering  that  he 
had  found  his  master,  dropped  his  head. 

"  Saved !— I  am  saved  !  "  muttered 
Katharine,  while  breathless,  and  almost 
unconscious,  she  rested  her  head  on  Sey- 
mour's shoulder. 

He  lifted  her  from  her  saddle,  and 
laid  her  upon  the  mossy  turf,  under  an 
ancient  oak.  He  then  secured  the  horse 
to  a  branch  of  a  tree,  while  Katharine, 
trembling  and  exhausted  by  her  efforts, 
sank  down  to  recover  herself. 


THE   DECLARATION. 


81 


CHAPTER    III. 

THE     DECLARATION. 

THOMAS  SEYMOUR  speedily  returned 
to  Katharine.  She  still  lay  pale  and 
motionless,  and  with  her  eyes  closed. 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  deep  and 
ardent  gaze,  while  he  seemed  to  imbibe 
fresh  draughts  of  love  from  the  sight  of 
this  noble  and  beautiful  woman — not 
suffering  himself  to  reflect  for  a  moment 
that  she  was  his  queen. 

At  length,  then,  he  was  alone  with 
her.  At  length  after  two  years  of  pa- 
tience, of  torment,  and  dissimulation, 
God  had  granted  him  this  happy  hour, 
for  which  he  had  so  long  sighed  in  vain 
— which  he  had  so  long  imagined  unat- 
tainable. She  was  now  beside  him.  She 
was  now  his  own. 

And  had  the  entire  court — had  even 
Henry  himself  approached  at  this  mo- 
ment, Thomas  Seymour  would  not  have 
heeded  them — he  would  not  have  been 
terrified. 

His  blood  had  mounted  to  his  brain, 
and  had  overcome  his  reason ;  his  heart, 
which  in  consequence  of  this  furious 
chase,  and  of  his  anxiety  for  Katharine, 
still  bounded  and  panted  violently,  did 
not  suffer  him  to  hear  any  voice  but  the 
voice  of  his  passion — of  his  love. 

He  knelt  down  beside  the  queen  and 
gently  seized  her  hand. 

Perhaps  it  was  this  touch  which 
roused  her  from  her  unconsciousness. 
She  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  vacantly 
around  her. 

rt  Where  am  I  ? "  she  asked,  in  a  faint 
accent. 


Thomas  Seymour  pressed  her  hand  to 
his  lips.  "You  are  with  the  most 
faithful  and  devoted  of  your  servants,  my 
queen ! " 

Queen!  This  word  woke  her  up 
from  her  lethargy,  and  she  raised  her- 
self into  a  sitting  posture. 

"  But  where  is  my  retinue  ?  Where 
is  the  Princess  Elizabeth?  Where  are 
all  the  eyes  that  are  wont  to  guard  and 
watch  me?  Where  are  all  the  spies 
and  listeners  that  accompany  the 
queen  ? " 

"  They  are  far  away  from  here,"  re- 
plied Thomas  Seymour,  in  a  tone  that 
betrayed  his  inward  joy.  "They  are 
far  behind  us,  and  will  not  overtake  us 
for  at  least  another  hour.  And  now, 
ray  queen,  can  you  conceive  what  this 
hour  is  for  me?  An  hour  of  freedom, 
after  an  imprisonment  of  two  years — an 
hour  of  happiness,  after  two  long  years 
of  daily  pain  and  daily  torment !  " 

Katharine,  who  had  smiled  at  first, 
now  became  grave  and  thoughtful.  Her 
eyes  rested  upon  her  hunting-cap,  which 
had  fallen  from  her  head  and  lay  beside 
her  on  the  grass. 

She  pointed  with  trembling  htand  to 
the  crown,  and  said,  gently : 

"Do  you  know  what  that  means,  my 
lord?" 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  do ;  but  at  this  mo- 
ment I  no  longer  shrink  from  it  with 
terror.  There  are  moments  when  life 
hangs  upon  a  precipice,  and  when  we  do 
not  heed  the  abyss  that  lies  yawning  at 
our  feet.  Such  a  moment  is  the  present. 
I  know  that  this  hour  makes  me  a  trai- 
tor, and  may  lead  me  to  the  sdaffold,  but 


82 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


yet  I  will  not  be  silent.  The  fire  which 
rages  in  ray  breast  consumes  me,  and  I 
must  at  length  give  it  an  outlet.  My 
heart,  which  has  for  years  burned  as  in 
a  fiery  furnace,  but  which  is  withal  so 
vigorous  that  in  the  midst  of  its  torments 
it  evermore  felt  a  sensation  of  bliss, 
must  at  length  be  destroyed  or  be  ap- 
peased. Your  majesty  must  therefore 
deign  to  hear  me." 

"  No !  no !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  al- 
most painful  emotion.  "  I  will  not — I 
dare  not  hear  you.  Remember  that  I 
am  the  wife  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  and 
that  it  is  dangerous  even  to  speak  to 
you.  Be  silent,  therefore  my  lord. — 
pray  be  silent,  and  let  us  proceed  on  our 
ride." 

She  attempted  to  rise,  but  her  own 
exhaustion,  as  well  as  Lord  Seymour's 
gentle  coercion,  compelled  her  to  resume 
her  seat. 

"No,  I  will  not  be  silent,"  he  re- 
plied. "  I  will  not  be  silent  until  I  have 
told  you  all  that  glows  and  rages  within 
me.  The  Queen  of  England  may  either 
pardon  or  condemn  me,  but  she  shall  at 
least  know  that  she  is  not  for  me  the 
wife  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  but  the  most 
charming  and  attractive — the  noblest  and 
the  loveliest  woman  in  England.  I  will 
tell  her  I  do  not  for  a  moment  remem- 
ber that  she  is  my  queen,  or  if  I  do  so, 
it  is  only  in  order  to  execrate  the  king, 
who  has  been  so  presumptuous  as  to  fix 
this  dazzling  and  spendid  jewel  in  his 
bloody  crown." 

Katharine,  almost  terrified,  laid  her 
hand  upon  Seymour's  lips. 

"Hold!  unhappy   man — hold!"    she 


exclaimed.  "Know  you,  that  you  arc 
uttering  words  which  would  be  yonr 
death-warrant  were  any  one  to  overhear 
them?" 

"But  no  one  hears  me — no  one  bui 
the  queen  and  God,  who  is  perhaps  even 
more  compassionate  and  merciful  than 
the  queen  herself.  Accuse  me  there- 
fore, madam — accuse  me  if  you  will.  Go 
and  tell  your  king  that  Thomas  Seymour 
is  a  traitor — that  he  dares  to  love  the 
queen  ;  the  king  will  send  me  to  the  scaf- 
fold, but  I  shall  still  esteem  myself  happy 
— for  my  death  at  least  will  be  owing  tc 
and  for  you.  O,  queen — if  I  cannot 
live  for  you — surely  it  is  a  happy  fate  to 
meet  death  for  your  sake  !  " 

Katharine  listened  to  him  with  mute 
astonishment,  while  her  senses  seemed 
lost  with  intoxication.  For  her  this 
language  was  wholly  new,  and  it  made 
her  heart  tremble  with  emotions  of  rap- 
ture; it  filled  her  soul  as  if  with  melo- 
dies of  magic  spell,  which  lulled  her  into 
a  blissful  unconsciousness.  She  even 
forgot  that  she  was  the  queen — the  wife 
of  Henry — the  jealous  and  bloodthirsty. 
She  only  knew  that  the  man  whom  she 
had  so  long  loved,  now  knelt  at  her 
side,  and  that  she  listened  with  rapture 
to  the  music  of  his  words — which  were 
to  her  as  nectar. 

Thomas  Seymour  continued  to  urge 
his  suit.  He  told  her  all  that  he  had 
suffered,  he  told  her  that  he  had  often 
rosolved  to  die,  in  order  at  length  to  put 
an  end  to  his  torments ;  but  that  then  a 
glance  from  her  eyes,  a  word  from  her 
lips,  had  again  given  him  the  strength  to 
|  live,  and  to  endure  still  longer  the  tor- 


THE   DECLARATION. 


83 


tures  which  were  at  once  painful  and 
full  of  delight. 

"  Bat  now,  madam,  my  powers  are 
exhausted,  and  you  must  either  endow 
rne  with  life  or  consign  me  to  death.  I 
am  ready  to  mount  the  scaffold  to-mor- 
row, unless  you  suffer  me  to  live — to 
live  for  you  alone." 

Katharine  looked  at  him  with  aston- 
ishment and  tremulous  emotion.  She 
encountered  his  proud  and  commanding 
glance,  which  almost  caused  her  fear — but 
it  was  the  bliss-yielding  fear  of  the  lov- 
ing and  submissive  woman  before  the 
strong  and  imperious  man. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  with  a 
charming  smile,  "that  you  almost  look 
as  if  you  wished  to  command  me  to  love 
you  ?  " 

"Xo,  madam,"  he  replied,  proudly. 
UI  cannot  command  you  to  love  me,  but 
I  must  charge  you  to  tell  me  the  truth 
— this  I  must  require  of  yon,  for  I  am  a 
man  who  has  the  right  of  demanding 
this  of  a  woman.  I  have  already  said 
that  for  me  you  are  not  the  queen — for 
me  you  are  only  the  loved  and  wor- 
shipped woman.  This  feeling  has  no 
connection  with  your  kingdom,  and  in 
making  this  avowal  of  my  love,  I  do  not 
mean  to  convey  that  you  would  be  low- 
ering yourself  in  accepting  it.  For  the 
true  love  of  a  man  is  always  the  most 
sacred  gift  which  he  can  offer  to  a  wo- 
man ;  and  if  even  a  beggar's  love  be  of- 
fered to  a  queen,  she  must  feel  herself 
honored  thereby.  O  queen,  behold  in 
me  this  beggar !  I  lie  prostrate  at  your 
feet,  and  lift  my  hands  beseechingly  to 
you,  but  I  do  not  ask  for  alms — nor 


would  I  crave  your  pity  and  compassion, 
which  might  perhaps  tender  me  a  gift 
in  order  to  lessen  my  misery.  No — I 
ask  for  yourself — I  desire  all  or  nothing. 
It  will  not  suffice  that  you  pardon  my 
boldness,  and  throw  the  veil  of  silence 
over  my  rash  enterprise.  I  desire  that 
you  pronounce  the  decree,  whether  of 
my  doom  or  of  my  bliss.  I  know  you 
are  generous  and  merciful,  and  even 
though  you  should  scorn  and  not  return 
my  love — yet  perhaps  you  will  not  be- 
tray me :  perhaps  you  will  spare  me  and 
be  silent.  But  I  repeat  to  you,  madam, 
I  shall  not  accept  this  offering  of  your 
generosity.  You  shall  either  declare  me 
to  be  a  traitor,  or  exalt  me  to  the  heaven 
of  bliss — for  a  traitor  I  am  if  you  con- 
demn my  love,  but  a  god  among  men  if 
you  return  it." 

"And  now,  my  lord,  do  you  know 
you  are  very  cruel,"  returned  Katharine, 
with  gentle  reproach.  "You  wish  that 
I  should  become  either  an  accuser  or  an 
accomplice.  You  only  leave  me  the 
choice  of  being  the  instrument  of  your 
doom,  or  of  becoming  a  perjured  and 
faithless  wife — a  wife  who  forgets  her 
sacred  duties  and  her  sworn  vows,  and 
who  dishonors  the  crown  which  her  hus- 
band has  placed  upon  her  head — which 
dishonor  the  king  would  assuredly  wash 
away  with  your  blood  and  with  mine." 

"  Be  it  so !  "  exclaimed  the  earl,  with 
exultation.  "  Let  my  head  fall  at  once, 
if  you  but  love  me !  I  shall  then  in- 
deed be  immortal,  for  a  moment  in  your 
arms  is  an  eternity  of  bliss!  " 

"  But  I  have  just  observed,  that  not 
only  your  life  but  also  my  own  is  at 


84: 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


stake.  You  know  the  severe  and  vin- 
dictive character  of  the  king.  Even 
mere  suspicion  would  suffice  to  condeirih 
me.  Ah,  if  he  6"nly  knew  what  we 
have  here  been  saying,  he  would  send 
me  to  the  block  as  he  did  Katharine 
Howard,  though  I  am  not  guilty  as  she 
was.  Oh,  I  shudder  to  think  of  the 
scaffold,  and  yet,  Lord  Seymour,  you 
would  condemn  me  to  that  wretched 
fate  —  and  then  you  say  you  love 
me!" 

With  a  deep  sigh,  Thomas  Seymour 
dropped  his  head  pensively  on  his 
breast. 

"  You  have  pronounced  my  sentence, 
gracious  lady,  and  though  you  are  too 
generous  to  tell  me  the  truth,  I  have  di- 
vined it.  No,  you  do  not  love  me,  for 
you  see  with  a  quick  eye  the  danger 
which  threatens  you,  and  you  shrink 
from  it.  No,  you  do  not  love  me,  for 
otherwise  you  would  think  of  nothing 
but  of  love  itself;  danger  would  only 
serve  to  inspire  you,  and  the  sword 
which  threatens  would  be  unseen,  or  else 
you  would  seize  its  naked  edge  and  say, 
'  What  care  I  for  death,  since  I  am  hap- 
py ?  What  matter  the  loss  of  life,  since 
I  have  found  undying  felicity  ? '  Ah, 
Katharine,  you  have  a  cool  head  and  a 
cold  heart.  God  give  you  a  continuance 
of  both,  for  then  you  will  pass  through 
life  quietly  and  without  harm  ;  but  you 
will  still  be  a  poor,  cheerless,  and  deplo- 
rable being;  and  when  you  die  a  royal 
crown  will  be  laid  upon  your  coffin,  but 
love  will  shed  no  tears  over  your  grave. 
Farewell,  Queen  Katharine,  and  as  you 
•  cannot  love  him,  bestow  at  least  your 


compassion  upon  the  traitor,  Thomas 
Seymour!  " 

Saying  which,  he  bent  down  and  em- 
braced her  feet.  He  then  rose,  and 
with  a  firm  step  advanced  toward  the 
tree  to  which  the  horses  were  bound. 

But  now  Katharine  sprang  up,  and 
rushing  forward,  seized  his  hand  which 
held  the  bridle  of  his  horse,  and,  breath- 
less and  trembling,  said : 

"What  would  you  do?  Whither  are 
you  going  ? " 

"To  the  king,  madam." 

"  And  for  what  purpose?  " 

"  To  show  him  an  arch-traitor,  who 
has  dared  to  love  the  queen.  You  have 
taken  away  the  life  from  my  soul,  and 
the  king  will  take  the  life  of  my  body. 
The  latter  is  the  less  painful,  and  I  shall 
thank  him  for  it." 

Katharine  uttered  a  cry  of  alarm,  and 
drew  him  back  with  passionate  violence 
to  the  spot  where  she  had  previously  been 
resting. 

"If  you  do  what  you  threaten,"  she 
exclaimed,  with  trembling  lips  and  fal- 
tering voice,  "you  will  kill  me!  Hear 
me! — listen!  At  the  very  moment 
that  you  mount  your  horse  to  go  to  the 
king,  I  will  mount  mine  too ;  not,  how- 
ever, to  follow  yeu— not  to  go  back  to 
London,  but  to  rush  headlong  with  my 
horse  over  yonder  precipice.  Oh,  do 
not  fear,  you  will  not  be  accused  as  my 
murderer;  it  will  be  said  that  I  have 
fallen  over  with  my  horse,  and  that  the 
furious  animal  has  caused  my  death !  " 

"I  would  advise  your  majesty  to  be 
cautious,  and  to  consider  well  what  you 
are  saying,"  exclaimed  Thomas  Sey- 


THE  DECLARATION. 


85 


mour,  while  his  countenance  brightened 
up,  and  his  features  became  radiant  with 
joy.  "Consider  that  your  words  must 
either  be  a  condemnation  or  an  avowal. 
I  will  cither  die  or  secure  your  love. 
Not  the  love  of  a  queen,  who  thinks  to 
bestow  a  favor  upon  her  subject,  in  per- 
haps lifting  him  one  day  to  rank  with 
herself,  but  the  love  of  a  woman  who 
bows  her  head  with  yielding  humility, 
the  while  she  accepts  her  beloved  as 
her  lord  and  husband!  Oh,  Katharine, 
take  good  heed!  If  you  come  to  me 
with  the  pride  of  a  queen — if  there  be 
but  one  thought  within  you,  which  says 
that  you  favor  your  subject  in  taking 
him  to  your  heart,  then  say  no  more, 
but  let  me  go  hence.  I  am  proud  and 
nobly  born  like  yourself,  and  while  love 
has  vanquished  me  and  flung  me  at  your 
feet,  still  it  shall  not  bow  my  head  to 
the  dust.  But  if  you  say,  Katharine, 
that  you  love  me,  then  will  I  consecrate 
to  you  my  whole  life.  I  will  be  at  once 
your  lord  and  your  slave.  I  shall  have 
no  thought,  no  feeling,  and  no  wish  that 
will  not  be  devoted  to  your  service ;  and 
when  I  say  that  I  will  be  your  lord,  I  do 
not  mean  thereby  that  I  shall  not  at  the 
same  time  be  constantly  at  your  feet,  and 
bow  my  head  to  the  dust,  and  say  to  yon, 
4  Trample  upon  me,  for  I  am  your 
slave!'" 

And  while  he  thus  spoke,  he  fell  upon 
his  knees  and  bowed  his  head  at  Katha- 
rine's feet,  while  the  noble  and  glowing 
expression  of  his  countenance  ravished 
her  heart. 

She  stooped  down,  and  raised  him 
gently,  looking  meanwhile,  with  an  inde- 


scribable expression  of  happiness,  into 
the  depths  of  his  beaming  eyes. 

"  Do  you  love  me  ?  "  asked  Seymour, 
while  he  gently  placed  his  arm  around 
her  slender  waist,  and  roso  from  his 
kneeling  posture. 

"  Yes,  I  love  you,"  she  replied,  with  a 
firm  voice,  and  with  a  smile  of  ineffable 
happiness.  "Yes,  I  love  you,  not  as  a 
queen,  but  as  a  woman ;  and  if  this  love 
should  perchance  bring  us  both  to  the 
scaffold,  why  then  we  shall  at  least  die 
together,  but  only  to  meet  again,  and 
be  reunited  forever,  in  realms  beyond 
the  skies." 

"  Oh,  no,  Katharine ;  think  not  of 
dying  at  present;  think  only  of  living; 
of  the  delightful  and  rapturous  future 
which  awaits  us,  and  which  smiles  for 
our  approach.  Think  of  the  days  which 
will  speedily  come,  when  our  love  will 
require  no  further  secrecy,  no  further 
concealment,  but  when  we  shall  be 
able  to  proclaim  it  to  all  the  world, 
and  to  shout  our  joy  aloud  with  happy 
and  exulting  hearts.  Yes,  my  Katha- 
rine, let  us  look  forward  to  the  event 
which  will  at  length  loose  the  unnat- 
ural bonds  which  now  bind  you  to  this 
hoary  tyrant ;  and  then,  when  Henry  is 
no  more,  you  will  be  mine — mine  with 
all  your  life  and  being;  and  then,  in- 
stead of  the  proud  royal  diadem,  your 
brow  will  be  adorned  with  the  bridal 
wreath.  Swear  this,  Katharine.  Vow 
solemnly  that  you  will  be  mine  as  soon 
as  you  are  set  free  by  the  king's  death." 

The  queen  shuddered  and  her  cheek 
turned  pale. 

"Oh!"   she  sighed,  "then  death  is 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


our  hope,  and  the  scaffold,  perhaps,  our 
goal." 

"  Not  so,  my  Katharine.  Love  is  our 
hope,  and  happiness  our  goal.  Think 
of  life  and  of  our  future!  Fulfil  my 
request.  Swear  to  me  here  in  the  sight 
of  heaven,  with  God  as  our  witness, 
that  from  the  day  on  which  death  shall 
have  delivered  you  from  the  thraldom  of 
your  marriage  with  the  king,  you  will  he 
mine — my  spouse,  my  wife.  Swear  to 
ine  that,  disregarding  etiquette,  and  in 
opposition  to  a  tyrannical  custom,  you 
will  become  the  wife  of  Lord  Seymour, 
even  before  the  funeral-knell  shall  have 
ceased  for  the  king.  We  shall  find  a 
priest  who  will  bless  our  love,  and 
hallow  the  contract  which  we  have 
made  with  each  other  this  day  and 
forever.  Promise  that  you  will  keep 
your  faith  and  love  for  me  until  the 
wished-for  day,  and  that  you  will  never 
forget  that  my  honor  is  thine,  and  thy 
happiness  mine !  " 

"  This  I  swear !  "  said  Katharine,  sol- 
emnly. "You  may  depend  upon  me  at 
all  times,  and  under  all  circumstances. 
Never  will  I  harbor  a  thought  that  does 
not  belong  to  you.  I  shall  love  you  as 
Thomas  Seymour  deserves  to  be  loved ; 
that  is,  with  a  devoted  and  confiding 
heart.  It  will  be  my  pride  to  subject 
myself  to  you,  and  with  a  joyful  heart  I 
will  serve  and  obey  yon,  as  your  faithful, 
true,  and  dutiful  wife." 

"  I  accept  your  vow,"  said  Seymour, 
iii  a  like  solemn  tone.  "And  on  my 
side  I  swear  in  return  that  I  will  honor 
and  reverence  you  as  my  queen  and 
mistress  \  I  swear  to  you  that  you  will 


never  find  a  more  disinterested  counsel- 
lor, a  more  constant  husband,  or  a  more 
valiant  protector  than  I  shall  be  to  you. 
'  My  life  for  my  queen,  my  heart  for  my 
mistress,'  will  henceforth  be  my  motto, 
and  may  I  be  forsaken  by  Heaven  and  by 
you  if  I  ever  break  this  vow !  " 

"  So  be  it !  "  said  Katharine,  with  a 
bewitching  smile. 

Then  they  were  both  silent.  It  was 
that  silence  which  is  only  known  to  love 
and  happiness — that  silence  which  is 
so  rich  in  thoughts,  and  therefore  so 
poor  in  words. 

The  wind  whispered  softly  through 
the  trees,  in  the  dark  foliage  of  whicb 
here  and  there  might  be  heard  the  shrill 
or  mellow  notes  of  some  wild  song-bird. 
The  sun  flung  its  emerald  and  golden 
rays  athwart  the  soft,  velvet  sward  and 
mossy  turf,  along  the  ground,  whicb, 
rising  and  falling  in  gentle  undulations, 
formed  miniature  hills  and  valleys — 
while  at  intervals  appeared  the  graceful 
form  of  a  stag  or  a  young  fawn,  which, 
looking  around  inquiringly,  with  its 
bright  eyes,  would  suddenly  disappear 
into  the  thicket  on  perceiving  human 
beings  in  sight,  with  their  horses  en- 
camped near  them. 

Suddenly  the  stillness  was  broken  by 
the  loud  twang  of  the  hunting-horn, 
and  in  the  distance  confused  cries  and 
shouts  became  audible,  which  resound- 
ed through  the  recesses  of  the  forest,  and 
found  an  echo  which  was  repeated  a 
thousand-fold. 

The  queen  raised  her  head,  with  a 
sigh,  from  the  shoulder  of  Lord  Sey- 
mour. Her  dream  for  the  present  was 


THE   DECLARATION. 


87 


over;  the  angel  with  the  fiery  sword 
came  to  banish  her  from  her  paradise. 

For  she  was  no  longer  worthy  of 
paradise;  the  fatal  word  was  spoken, 
and  while  it  had  endowed  her  with 
love,  it  made  her  faithless  to  her  vows. 

The  wife  of  Henry — his  by  the  faith 
which  she  pledged  at  the  altar — had 
just  plighted  her  word  to  another,  and 
had  given  him  the  love  which  she  owed 
her  husband. 

"  It  is  past !  "  she  said,  with  a  sad 
smile.  "  These  sounds  recall  me  to  my 
slavery.  We  must  both  resume  our 
several  characters.  I  must  once  more 
take  the  part  of  queen." 

u  But  swear  to  me  again  that  you  will 
never  forget  this  hour — that  you  will 
always  keep  in  memory  the  vows  we 
have  pledged  to  each  other.1' 

She  looked  at  him  with  apparent  sur- 
prise. 

"  What !  can  plighted  faith  and  love 
be  ever  forgotten  ?  " 

"  You  will  always  remain  true  to  me, 
Katharine  ?  " 

She  smiled.  "  ISTow  only  imagine, 
my  jealous  lord — do  I  address  such 
questions  to  you  ? " 

"  Ah,  queen,  you  know  that  you  pos- 
sess the  magic  spell  which  binds  me  to 
you  forever." 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  she  returned,  musing- 
ly, while  she  directed  her  ardent  gaze 
toward  heaven,  and  appeared  to  follow 
the  fleeting  silvery  clouds  that  glided 
slowly  aloft  through  the  blue  tirma- 
ment. 

And  then,  her  eye  descending  and 
resting  on  her  lover,  while  her  hand  was 


laid  on  his  shoulder,  she  said  :  "  Love  is 
like  God  Himself — eternal,  everlastingj 
and  omnipresent.  But  we  must  believe 
in  it,  in  order  to  feel  its  presence.  We 
must  trust  in  it,  that  we  may  become 
worthy  to  receive  its  full  blessings  and 
rewards." 

But  the  shouts  and  the  clang  of  the 
horns  were  drawing  nearer  and  nearer, 
and  already  the  baying  of  the  hounds 
and  the  sounds  of  the  horses'  hoofs  were 
quite  audible. 

The  earl  had  unfastened  the  horse, 
and  led  Hector,  who  was  now  as  tame 
and  quiet  as  a  lamb,  to  his  mistress. 

u  Queen,"  said  Thomas  Seymour, 
"here  are  two  criminals  who  approach 
you.  Hector  is  my  fellow-culprit;  and 
had  it  not  been  for  the  fly,  which  I  now 
perceive,  from  the  poor  animal's  swol- 
len ear,  made  him  furious,  I  should  still 
have  been  the  most  wretched  and  un- 
happy man  in  your  kingdom,  whereas  I 
arn  now  the  most  fortunate  and  the 
most  enviable." 

The  queen  made  no  reply,  but  she  put 
her  arms  round  the  neck  of  the  noble 
animal  and  kissed  it  fervently. 

u  From  this  day  forth,"  said  she,  "  1 
will  ride  no  other  horse  bu$  Hector,  and 
when  he  grows  old,  and  unfit  for  ser- 
vice— " 

"  He  sh<\ll  be  tended  and  nursed  in  the 
stables  of  Katharine,  Countess  of  Sud- 
ley."  interrupted  Thomas  Seymour,  as 
he  held  the  stirrup  for  the  queen  and  as- 
sisted her  into  her  saddle. 

They  both  rode  forward  in  silenco 
toward  the  point  whence  came  the 
sound  of  voices  and  the  shrill  twang  of 


88 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


the  horns — both  too  much  occupied  with 
their  own  thoughts  to  interrupt  the  cur- 
rent thereof  by  an  indifferent  word. 

44  He  loves  me !"  thought  Katharine. 
**  I  am  a  happy  and  an  enviable  woman 
— for  I  have  secured  the  love  of  Thomas 
Seymour." 

"  The  queen  loves  me !  "  said  Thomas 
Seymour  to  himself  with  a  proud,  tri- 
umphant smile.  "  I  shall  therefore  one 
day  be  Eegent  of  England." 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  the 
large  open  plain  which  they  had  previ- 
ously crossed,  and  over  which  now  ad- 
vanced the  whole  of  the  royal  cavalcade, 
in  the  strangest  confusion,  with  the  Prin- 
cess Elizabeth  at  its  head. 

"  One  thing  more,"  whispered  Katha- 
rine :  "  whenever  you  want  a  messenger 
to  send  to  me,  apply  to  John  Hey  wood ; 
he  is  a  friend  in  whom  I  can  trust." 

And  then  she  dashed  forward  toward 
the  Princess  Elizabeth,  in  order  to  relate 
to  her  the  whole  account  of  this  adven- 
ture, and  the  fortunate  manner  in  which 
she  had  been  saved  by  her  master  of  the 
horse. 

Elizabeth  meanwhile  heard  her  with 
a  look  of  sullen  distraction ;  and  when  the 
queen  turned  to  the  remainder  of  her 
retinue,  and,  surrounded  by  her  ladies 
and  gentlemen,  received  their  congratu- 
lations, a  slight  nod  from  the  princess 
brought  Lord  Seymour  to  her  side. 

She  suffered  her  horse  to  canter  for- 
ward a  few  paces,  so  that  the  earl  and 
herself  were  a  little  apart  from  the 
others,  and  were  sure  of  not  being  over- 
heard. 

"  My  lord,"  she  said,  in  a  hasty  and  al- 


most threatening  tone,  "  you  have  often 
besought  me  in  vain  to  grant  you  an  in- 
terview, which  I  refused.  You  urgQjJ 
that  you  had  many  things  to  say  to  me, 
which  would  make  it  necessary  to  be 
alone.  Well,  my  lord,  we  are  now  alone, 
and  I  am  at  length  prepared  to  hear 
you." 

She  ceased,  and  awaited  his  answer. 
But  the  earl  was  taken  unawares,  and 
was  mute  with  surprise.  He  only  made 
her  a  profound  and  respectful  bow,  until 
he  almost  touched  his  horse's  neck. — 
"  But  no  matter,  I  shall  attend  this  ren- 
dezvous, even  if  it  were  only  to  dazzle 
Elizabeth's  eyes,  so  that  she  may  not 
see  what  she  certainly  never  shall  see — 
that's  all." 

The  young  princess  cast  upon  him  an 
angry  look,  and  said,  in  a  tone  of  sarcastic 
irony,  "  You  understand  well,  my  lord, 
the  art  of  concealing  your  joy,  and  any 
one  at  seeing  you  might  suppose — " 

"  That,  at  this  dangerous  court,  Thomas 
Seymour  is  discreet  enough  not  to  suffer 
his  delight  to  be  visible  in  his  counte- 
nance," interrupted  the  earl,  in  a  sub- 
dued tone.  "When,  princess,  may  I 
venture  to  see  you,  and  where?  " 

"Wait  this  evening  for  the  message 
which  John  Hey  wood  will  bring  you," 
whispered  Elizabeth,  as  she  turned  round, 
to  rejoin  the  queen. 

"John  Hey  wood  again!"  murmured 
the  earl — ''the  confidant  of  both,  and 
therefore  my  executioner  if  he  likes." 


LE  ROI   S'EiWUIE. 


89 


CHAPTER  IV. 

LE      EOI      S' ENNUI  E. 

KINO  HENRY  was  alone  in  his  closet. 
He  had  spent  a  few  hours  in  the  compo- 
sition of  a  Book  of  Homilies  which  he 
was  writing  for  his  subjects,  and  which, 
by  virtue  of  his  dignity  as  head  of  the 
Church,  he  wished  to  impose  upon  them 
as  a  substitute  for  the  Bible. 

He  now  laid  down  his  pen,  and 
glanced  with  infinite  satisfaction  over 
the  pages  he  had  written,  which  would 
afford  his  subjects  a  fresh  proof  of  his 
paternal  love  and  solicitude,  and  con- 
vince them  that  Henry  the  Eighth  was 
not  only  the  noblest  and  most  virtuous 
of  monarchs,  but  also  the  wisest  and 
most  learned. 

This  reflection,  however,  was  unable 
to  cheer  the  king  on  the  present  occa- 
sion ;  perhaps  because  he  had  contem- 
plated the  subject  too  often,  until  it  had 
lost  its  novelty.  He  felt  restless  and 
dejected,  as  if  oppressed  by  an  uneasy 
eense  of  solitude — there  were  so  many 
secret  and  hidden  voices  in  his  heart,  the 
whispers  whereof  he  feared,  and  which 
he  therefore  sought  always  to  drown; 
there  were  so  many  reminiscences  of 
blood  ever  present  to  his  mind,  however 
often  he  strode  to  efface  them  with 
fresh  blood.  These  thoughts  the  king 
abhorred,  although  he  wore  the  air  of 
never  repenting  what  he  Lad  done,  and 
never  feeling  any  remorse  of  conscience 
for  his  deeds. 

He  suddenly  rang  the  gold  bell  which 
etood  beside  him,  and  his  countenance 


brightened  up  when  he  saw  the  door 
open,  and  the  Earl  of  Douglas  appear  on 
the  threshold. 

"  Oh !  at  length,"  said  Lord  Douglas, 
who  well  understood  the  expression  of 
Henry's  features,  "at  length  the  king 
condescends  to  show  favor  to  his  peo- 
ple." 

"What!  I  show  favor?"  asked  the 
king,  with  astonishment.  "  And  how  ie 
that,  pray  ? " 

"  Because  your  majesty  at  length 
takes  rest  from  your  labors,  and  thinks 
a  little  of  your  health,  which  is  so  pre- 
cious, and  so  needful  to  the  public  weal. 
Because  you  remember,  sire,  that  the 
well-being  of  England  consists  alone  in 
the  welfare  of  her  king ;  so  that  your 
majesty  must  preserve  your  health, 
sound  and  robust,  in  order  that  your 
people  may  be  so." 

The  king  smiled  with  satisfaction.  It 
never  occurred  to  him  to  doubt  the 
earl's  words.  He  thought  it  quite  natu- 
ral that  the  welfare  of  his  subjects  was 
centred  in  his  own  person,  but  still  the 
assurance  of  this  fact  was  ever  a  pleas- 
ing and  grateful  melody  in  his  ears ;  for 
it  appealed  to  his  pride,  and  he  loved  to 
hear  the  flattering  strains  repeated  again 
and  again  by  his  courtiers. 

The  king,  as  we  have  said,  smiled, 
but  in  tbis  smile  there  was  something 
unusual,  which  did  not  escape  Lord 
Douglas. 

"  He  is  in  the  condition  of  a  hungry 
alligator,"  said  Lord  Douglas  to  himself. 
"He  is  on  the  watch  for  prey,  and  he 
will  only  recover  his  cheerfulness  and 
good-humor,  when  he  has  tasted  some 


90 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


human  flesh  and  blood.  Ah !  well,  for 
tunately,  we  have  a  large  stock  of  that 
always  on  hand.  It  is  the  king's  own 
and  we  shall  give  him  some.  But  we 
must  be  cautious,  and  go  to  work  pru- 
dently." 

He  approached  the  king,  and  kissed 
his  hand. 

"  I  kiss  this  hand,"  said  the  wily  lord, 
"  which  to-day  has  been  the  instrument 
whereby  the  wisdom  of  the  head  has 
been  poured  forth  on  this  thrice-blessed 
paper.  I  kiss  this  paper  which  will 
reveal  and  proclaim  to  happy  England 
the  pure  and  unadulterated  word  of 
God  ;  but  still  I  would  say,  let  it  suffice 
for  the  present,  sire,  and  take  rest,  in 
order  to  remember  that  you  are  not 
only  a  page  but  also  a  man." 

"  Yea,  verily,  a  feeble,  tottering  man  !  " 
sighed  the  king,  while  he  attempted  to 
rise  with  difficulty,  and  in  doing  so 
leaned  upon  the  arm  of  the  earl  with 
auch  force,  that  the  latter  almost  gave 
way  under  the  huge  burden. 

"Tottering?"  said  Lord  Douglas,  re- 
proachfully. "Your  majesty  moves 
with  as  much  ease  and  freedom  as  a 
young  man.  And  there  was  no  need  of 
my  assistance  to  lift  you  up." 

"Nevertheless  we  are  growing  old," 
said  the  king,  who,  being  to-day  affect- 
ed with  ennui,  was  unusually  sensitive 
and  melancholy. 

"Old!"  repeated  the  courtier,  "with 
these  fire-flashing  eyes,  this  unfurrowed 
brow,  and  this  noble  and  serene  counte- 
nance ?  No,  your  majesty — kings,  in 
common  with  the  gods,  enjoy  the  privi- 
lege  of  never  growing  old." 


"And  in  that  respect  they  resemble 
parrots  to  a  hair,"  said  John  Hey  wood, 
who  at  this  moment  entered  the  room. 
"  I  have  a  parrot  which  my  great- 
grandfather inherited  from  his  great- 
grandfather, who  was  the  barber  of 
Henry  the  Fourth,  and  which  at  the 
present  day  chatters  with  as  much  glib- 
ness  as  he  did  a  hundred  years  back, 
;  Long  live  the  king— long  live  this  noble 
pattern  of  virtue,*  grace,  beauty,  and 
goodness,  long  live  the  king ! '  That  was 
the  song  my  parrot  sang  a  hundred 
years  since,  and  he  repeated  it  for  Hen- 
ry the  Fifth,  and  Henry  the  Sixth,  and 
for  Henry  the  Seventh,  and  Henry 
the  Eighth.  And,  wonderful !— the 
kings  have  changed— but  this  song  of 
praise  has  endured,  and  has  never  been 
any  thing  but  the  pure  and  simple 
truth.  Just  like  yours,  my  Lord  Doug- 
las. Your  majesty  will  allow  him  to 
tell  the  truth,  for  he  is  nearly  related  to 
my  parrot,  who  always  calls  him  '  cous- 
in,' and  has  taught  him  this  immortal 
song  of  praise  upon  kings." 

The  king  laughed  at  this  merry 
speech,  while  Lord  Douglas,  cast  a 
scornful  and  withering  glance  at  John 
Hey  wood. 

"  He  is  an  insolent  knave,"  said  the 
king,  "  is  he  not,  Douglas  ?  " 

"  Pie  is  a  fool !  "  said  the  earl,  with  a 
supercilious  shrug. 

"  Exactly  so,  and  consequently  I  have 
often  told  you  the  truth,  for  it  is  well 
£nown  that  fools  and  children  tell  the 
truth.  And  my  object  in  becoming  a 
bol  was  just  in  order  that  the  king, 
whom  yon  all  belie  with  flattery,  may 


LE  ROI  S'EXNUIE. 


91 


have  some  creature,  besides  his  looking 
glass,  to  tell  him  the  truth." 

u  Well,  and  what  truth  are  you  going 
to  dish  up  for  me  to-day,  John  ?  " 

"It  is  already  dished  up,  sire.  Lay 
aside  therefore  your  royal  crown  and 
your  chief-priestship  for  a  short  time, 
and  resoLye  to  become  a  carnivorous 
animal  for  a  brief  space.  There  is  no 
difficulty  in  being  a  king.  A  man  has 
only  to  be  born  of  a  queen  under  a  can- 
opy, but  it  is  a  different  thing  to  be  a 
man  with  a  good  digestion.  For  this 
purpose  one  requires  a  sound  stomach 
and  a  quiet  conscience.  Come,  King 
Henry,  come  and  let  us  see  if  you  are 
not  only  a  king,  but  also  a  man  with  a 
vigorous  stomach." 

And  with  a  jocular  grin,  the  jester 
took  the  king's  arm  and  led  him,  with 
the  earl  on  the  other  side,  into  the  dining- 
room. 

The  king,  who  was  an  extraordinary 
feeder,  nodded  silently  to  his  suite  to 
tike  their  places  at  the  table,  after  he 
had  himself  sunk  into  his  gilded  arm- 
chair. 

With  a  grave  and  solemn  look,  the 
king  took  from  the  hands  of  the  cham- 
berlain the  ivory  tablets  on  which  were 
written  the  bill  of  fare  for  the  day. 
The  king's  dinner  was  a  serious  and  im- 
portant matter.  A  large  number  of 
post-horses  and  messengers  were  con- 
tinually engaged  in  fetching  from  the 
remotest  parts  of  the  kingdom  and  of 
Europe  the  most  choice  and  dainty  mor- 
sels for  the  king's  table.  The  list  accord- 
ingly exhibited  on  this  day,  as  it  alwaj's 
did,  the  rarest  and  most  recherche  edi- 


bles, and  whenever  the  king  found  one 
of  his  favorite  dishes  set  down,  he 
nodded  his  head  approvingly,  which 
always  made  the  face  of  the  grand  mas- 
ter of  the  ceremonies  beam  like  rays  of 
sunshine. 

There  were  birds'-nests  from  the  In- 
dies, and  capons  from  Calcutta,  besides 
truffles  from  Languedoc,  which  the  poet- 
ical King  Francis  the  First  had  yester- 
day sent  as  a  special  mark  of  affection 
to  his  royal  brother  of  England ;  the 
sparkling  wine  of  Champagne,  and  the 
fiery  wine  of  the  Island  of  Cyprus, 
which  the  Kepublic  of  Venice  had  sent 
the  king  as  a  testimonial  of  high  regard. 
There  were,  too,  the  hard  Ehenish 
wines — lustrous  as  liquid  gold,  and  yield- 
ing the  fragance  of  an  entire  bouquet — 
with  which  the  North  German  Princes 
hoped  to  intoxicate  the  king  whom  they 
wished  to  place  at  the  head  of  their 
league.  There  were  also  huge  pasties  oi 
partridges,  which  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy had  sent,  and  the  luscious  fruits 
of  the  South  and  of  the  Spanish  Main, 
with  which  the  Emperor  Charles  the 
Fifth  furnished  the  table  of  the  King  of 
England.  For  it  was  well  known  that 
in  order  to  win  the  favor  of  the  English 
monarch,  his  appetite  must  needs  first 
be  appeased,  and  his  palate  tickled,  be- 
fore his  head  or  his  heart  could  be  won 
over. 

All  these  delicacies,  however,  did  not 
suffice  on  the  present  occasion  to  im- 
part to  the  king  that  happy  and  cheerful 
humor,  which  he  generally  evinced  when 
he  sat  down  to  table.  He  smiled  pen- 
sively at  John  Ileywood's  jocular  sallies 


92 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


and  witty  sarcasms?,  and  a  cloud  hung 
upon  his  brow.  The  king  needed  spe- 
cially the  presence  of  the  ladies  to  put 
him  in  a  cheerful  mood, — he  needed 
them,  as  the  hunter  needs  the  stag  in 
order  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  the 
chase, — pleasures  which  consist  in  this, 
that  the  defenceless  are  driven  to  death, 
and  war  declared  against  the  peaceful 
and  innocent. 

The  wily  courtier,  Lord  Douglas, 
readily  perceived  the  troubled  temper  of 
the  King,  and  understood  the  secret 
cause  of  his  sighs  and  gloomy  looks.  He 
had  ardently  hoped  for  this,  and  he  re- 
solved to  take  advantage  of  it  in  favor  of 
his  daughter,  and  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
queen. 

"Sire,"  he  said,  "I  am  just  on  the 
point  of  becoming  a  traitor,  and  of  ac- 
cusing my  king  of  injustice." 

The  king  glanced  at  him  with  his  flash- 
ing eyes,  while  he  laid  his  hand,  spark- 
ling with  brilliants,  upon  the  golden  gob- 
let filled  with  Ehenish  wine,  that  stood 
before  him. 

"  Injustice !  Me,  your  king  t  "  he 
asked,  with  a  thick  utterance. 

"  Yes,  of  an  injustice,  inasmuch  as  you 
are  for  me  the  visible  representative  of 
God  upon  earth.  I  would  accuse  the  Al- 
mighty if  he  were  one  day  to  deprive  me 
of  the  sun's  brightness  and  splendor,  or 
of  the  fragrance  of  his  flowers  ;  for  as  we 
children  of  men  are  accustomed  to  enjoy 
these  delights,  we  have  acquired  an  un- 
doubted claim  to  them  in  perpetuity.  I 
therefore  accuse  you,  sire,  of  having 
withdrawn  from  us  the  embodied  es- 
sence of  the  flowers,  and  the  incarnate 


light  of  the  sflta  itself— for  you  have  been 
so  cruel  as  to  send  the  queen  to  Epping 
Forest."  , 

"Not  so — the  queen  wished  to  ride," 
said  Henry,  pettishly.  "The  spring 
weather  attracted  her,  and  as  unfortu- 
nately I  do  not  possess  that  highest  of 
God's  attributes — omnipresence — I  must 
needs  dispense  with  her  society  for  once. 
There  is  no  longer  a  horse  able  to  carry 
the  King  of  England." 

"Yet  there  is  Pegasus,  sire,  and  your 
majesty  knows  so  well  how  to  manage 
him.  But  how,  sire — the  queen  wished 
to  ride,  though  by  doing  so  she  would  be 
deprived  of  your  presence?  Ah,  how 
cold  and  selfish  are  the  hearts  of  women ! 
If  I  were  a  woman  I  would  never  leave 
your  side;  I  would  covet  no  greater 
happiness  than  to  be  near  you,  and  lis- 
ten to  the  lofty  wisdom  that  flows  from 
your  heaven-inspired  lips.  "Were  I  a 
woman — " 

"  My  lord,  I  think  your  wish  is  already 
gratified,"  interrupted  John  Hey  wood, 
with  assumed  gravity.  "  At  least  your 
lordship  gives  me  quite  the  idea  of  an  old 
woman." 

All  the  company  laughed.  But  the 
king  did  not  even  smile  :  he  remained 
serious  and  wore  a  sullen  look  of  abstrac- 
tion. 

"It  is  true,"  he  muttered  to  himself, 
"  she  seemed  not  only  glad,  but  even 
elated  at  this  excursion,  and  her  eyes 
shone  with  a  fire  that  I  have  rarely  seen. 
There  must  be  some  peculiar  circum- 
stance connected  with  this  ride  to  Ep- 
ping Forest.  Who  accompanied  the 
queen  ?  " 


LE  ROI  S'ENNUIE. 


"  The  Princess  Elizabeth,"  said  John 
Heywood,  who  had  heard  all,  and  who 
had  clearly  perceived  the  shaft  which 
the  earl  had  aimed  at  the  queen.  "  The 
Princess  Elizabeth,  her  faithful  and  de- 
voted friend,  who  never  leaves  her  side 
— and  also  her  ladies,  who,  like  the  drag- 
on in  the  fable,  watch  over  the  beautiful 
princess." 

"  Who  is  there  besides  in  the  queen's 
retinue?"  asked  Henry  morosely. 

"  Her  master  of  the  horse,  Lord  Sud- 
ley,"  replied  Douglas,  "  and — " 

"  That  was  quite  a  superfluous  obser- 
vation," interrupted  John  Heywood — 
"  it  is  a  matter  of  course,  that  the  master 
of  the  horse  should  accompany  the  queen. 
It  is  as  much  his  duty  to  do  so  as  it  is 
yours  to  sing  the  song  of  your  cousin,  my 
parrot." 

"  He  is  right.  Thomas  Seymour  must 
accompany  her,"  said  the  king,  hastily — 
"  that  is  my  will  and  pleasure.  Thomas 
Heymour  is  a  faithful  servant,  and  he  has 
inherited  that  quality  from  his  sister  Jane, 
my  much  beloved  queen,  who  rests  with 
God.  Thomas  Seymour  is  devoted  to  his 
king  with  unwavering  fidelity." 

"  The  time  is  not  yet  ripe  to  assail  the 
Seymour  party,"  thought  the  earl. 
"  The  king  is  still  favorable  to  them,  and 
he  will  therefore  be  hostile  to  their  ene- 
mies. Let  us,  accordingly,  begin  our  at- 
tack against  Henry  Howard — that  is  to 
aay,  against  the  queen." 

"Who  accompanied  the  queen  be- 
sides?" repeated  Henry,  draining  the 
goblet  at  a  draught,  as  if  he  wished 
thereby  to  cool  the  fire  which  was  al- 
ready kindling  up  within  him.  But  the 


fiery  Rhine  wine,  instead  of  cooling,  only 
heated  him  still  more ;  it  fanned  like  a 
hurricane  the  flame  which  was  burning 
in  his  jealous  breast,  until  it  rose  to  his 
head,  and  made  his  brain  glow  like  his 
heart. 

"  Who  else  accompanied  her  ?  "  said 
Lord  Douglas,  with  an  air  of  noncha- 
lance. "Well,  I  think  it  was  the 
queen's  chamberlain — the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey." 

The  king  knit  his  brows.  The  lion 
had  scented  his  prey. 

"  The  queen's  chamberlain  is  not  in 
the  retinue !  "  said  John  Heywood  with 
earnest  vehemence. 

"He  is  not?"  cried  Lord  Douglas. 
"Poor  Lord  Surrey!— that  will  make 
him  very  sad." 

"  And  why  do  you  think  it  will  make 
him  sad  ? "  demanded  the  king  in  a  voice 
that  resembled  the  rumbling  of  distant 
thunder. 

"  Because  Lord  Surrey  is  accustomed, 
sire,  to  live  in  the  sunshine  of  royal  favor 
— because  he  resembles  that  flower  that 
always  turns  its  face  toward  the  sun,  and 
receives  from  it  life  and  color  and  splen- 
dor." 

"Let  him  take  care  that  the  sun 
does  not  scorch  him  !  "  murmured  the 
king. 

"My  lord,"  said  John  Heywood,  "you 
should  use  a  pair  of  spectacles  to  help 
you  to  see  better.  This  time  you  have 
confounded  the  sun  with  one  of  its  sat- 
ellites. The  Earl  of  Surrey  is  far  too 
prudent  a  man  to  venture  to  bask  in 
the  sun,  and  so  dazzle  his  eyes  and 
affect  his  brain.  He  is  content  with 


94: 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


worshipping  one  of  the  planets  that  sur- 
round the  sun." 

"What  does  the  fool  mean?"  said 
Lord  Douglas,  with  a  scornful  smile. 

"The  wise  man  means  you  to  under- 
stand that  you  have  this  time  confounded 
your  daughter  with  the  queen,"  replied 
John  Heywood,  laying  a  stress  upon 
each  word  ;  "  and  that  it  has  happened 
to  you  like  many  great  astronomers,  to 
mistake  a — " 

Lord  Douglas  cast  an  angry  and 
scornful  glance  at  John  Heywood, 
which  the  latter  returned  with  a  look  of 
stern  defiance. 

Their  eyes  became  fixed  upon  each 
other,  and  they  each  read  in  the  eyes  of 
the  other,  the  hatred  and  animosity 
which  was  fermenting  in  their  hearts. 
They  both  knew  that  from  this  hour 
forth  they  had  sworn  an  implacable 
and  deadly  animosity  against  each  other. 

Of  this  silent  but  most  significant 
scene,  the  king  had  observed  nothing. 
He  hung  his  head,  brooding  gloomily 
upon  the  words  of  Lord  Douglas,  and 
the  storm-clouds  which  gathered  on  his 
brow,  were  becoming  more  dense  and 
murky  each  moment. 

With  a  violent  effort  he  raised  himself 
from  his  seat,  and  this  time  he  required 
no  helping  hand  to  stand  upright.  An- 
ger was  the  powerful  lever  which  lifted 
him  up. 

The  courtiers  rose  silently  from  their 
seats,  and  nobody  but  John  Heywood 
observed  the  glance  of  mutual  under- 
standing which  Lord  Douglas  exchanged 
with  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
and  Wriothesley  the  chancellor. 


"  Ah  !  Why  is  Cranmer  not  here? '' 
said  John  Heywood  to  himself.  "  I  see 
the  three  tiger-cats  prowling  about,  con- 
sequently there  is  prey  somewhere  to 
be  swallowed.  Well,  at  all  events,  I 
shall  keep  my  ears  wide  open,  so  that  I 
can  hear  their  purring  and  miauling." 

"  Dinner  is  over,  my  lords,"  said  the 
king,  hastily,  and  the  gentlemen  of  the 
court  and  the  lords  in  waiting  withdrew 
in  silence  to  the  antechamber. 

Only  Lord  Douglas,  Gardiner  and 
Wriothesley  remained  behind,  while 
John  Heywood  had  glided,  unperceived, 
into  the  king's  closet,  and  there  hid  himself 
behind  the  gold-brocaded  screen  which 
covered  the  door  leading  from  the 
king's  study  into  the  outer  anteroom. 

"My  lords,"  said  the  king,  "you  will 
accompany  me  to  my  closet.  As  time 
hangs  heavily  on  our  hands,  it  will  be 
most  advisable  to  divert  ourself  by  tak- 
ing note  of  what  concerns  the  welfare  of 
our  beloved  subjects.  Follow  me  there- 
fore :  we  will  hold  a  privy  council." 

"Lord  Douglas,  your  arm."  Ami 
while  the  king,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of 
his  courtier,  proceeded  slowly  toward 
the  cabinet,  at  the  entrance  of  which 
the  chancellor  and  the  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester awaited  him,  he  asked  quietly  : 

"  You  say  that  Henry  Howard  dares 
frequently  to  press  into  the  society  of  the 
queen  ?  " 

"Sire;  I  did  not  say  that.  I  only 
meant  that  he  was  continually  to  be 
seen  in  the  vicinity  of  the  queen." 

"  Oh !  you  meant,  perhaps,  that  she 
encouraged  him  to  do  so,"  said  the  king, 
grinding  his  teeth. 


LE    ROI   S'ENNUIE. 


95 


"  Sire :  I  hold  the  queen  to  be  a  noble 
and  faithful  wife." 

"And  if  you  thought  otherwise,  I 
should  feel  disposed  to  lay  your  head  at 
your  feet,"  returned  the  king,  in  whose 
countenance  the  first  flash  of  the  thun- 
der-cloud seeking  a  vent  began  to  burst 
forth. 

44  My  head  belongs  to  the  king,"  said 
Lord  Douglas,  submissively.  "  Let  his 
majesty  do  with  it  as  he  pleases." 

44  But  Howard  ?  Do  you  mean,  then, 
that  Henry  Howard  loves  the  queen  ?  " 

41  Yes,  sire,  I  venture  to  maintain  that 
he  does." 

44  Well  then,  by  God's  mother,  I  will 
crush  the  reptile  under  my  feet.  I  will 
serve  him  as  I  did  his  sister  ?  "  exclaim- 
ed Henry,  with  passionate  vehemence. 
44  The  Howards  are  a  dangerous,  an  am- 
bitious, and  a  hypocritical  race." 

"  A  race  which  never  forgets  that  a 
daughter  of  their  house  has  sat  upon 
your  throne." 

44  But  they  shall  forget  it !  "  exclaimed 
the  king,  "even  if  I  were  obliged  to 
wash  away  the  proud  and  arrogant 
thought  with  their  heart's  blood.  It 
seems  they  have  not  already  had  proof 
enough  in  the  example  of  their  sister, 
how  I  can  punish  faithlessness  and 
treason.  This  insolent  race  wants  still 
another  proof.  If  so,  they  shall  have  it. 
Only  furnish  me  with  the  means,  Doug- 
las— give  me  the  smallest  hook  that  I 


can  fix  in  the  flesh  of  these  Howard?, 
and  I  tell  you  that  with  this  little  hook  I 
will  land  them  on  the  scaffold.  Only 
give  me  proofs  of  the  audacious  love  of 
the  earl,  and  I  promise  to  grant  you  as  a 
reward  whatever  you  ask." 

4'  Sire,  I  will  undertake  to  furnish  the 
proofs  you  require." 

44  When?" 

44  Within  four  days,  sire, — at  the  grand 
tournament  of  poets,  which  you  have 
commanded  in  honor  of  the  queen's 
birthday." 

41  Thanks,  Douglas,  thanks,"  said  the 
king,  with  a  smile  of  satisfaction.  4'In 
four  days  you  will  have  rid  me  of  the 
troublesome  race  of  the  Howards." 

44  But,  sire,  if  I  cannot  give  the  proofs 
you  require,  without  accusing  another 
person  ?  " 

The  king  who  was  about  to  enter  the 
door  of  his  closet,  stood  still  and  looked 
at  the  earl  with  a  fixed  gaze.  Then  he 
replied,  with  a  grim  and  sinister  smile : 
44  You  mean  the  queen  ?  Well,  if  she 
is  guilty  I  shall  punish  her!  God  has 
placed  his  sword  in  my  hand — that  I  may 
wield  it  to  his  honor  and  to  the  terror  oi 
men.  If  the  queen  has  sinned  she  shall 
suffer.  Furnish  me  with  the  proofs  of 
Howard's  guilt,  and  be  not  concerned, 
if  in  procuring  them  we  should  discover 
the  guilt  of  others.  We  will  not  shrink 
back  faint-hearted,  but  let  justice  take 
its  course!  " 


BOOK   III. 


THE     QUEEN'S     ROSETTE. 


CHAPTER  I. 
THE  QUEEN'S  FRIEND. 

LORD  DOUGLAS,  Gardiner,  and  Wri- 
othesley,  had  accompanied  the  king  into 
his  study. 

The  great  blow  was  at  length  about  to 
be  struck,  and  the  scene  so  long  medi- 
tated by  the  three  enemies  of  the  queen 
was  coming  to  a  crisis. 

Accordingly,  as  they  followed  the 
king,  who  strode  along  before  them 
with  unusual  activity,  they  once  more 
exchanged  glances  of  intelligence  with 
one  another. 

The  look  of  Lord  Douglas  said :  "  The 
hour  is  come,  hold  yourselves  ready !  " 

While  the  looks  of  his  friends  replied : 
"  We  are  ready." 

John  Heywood,  who  was  concealed 
behind  a  curtain,  and  who  saw  and 
noted  all,  could  not  forbear  a  slight 
shudder  at  the  sight  of  these  four  men, 
whose  hard  and  sinister  features  seemed 
inaccessible  to  every  ray  of  pity  and  of 
mercy. 


There  was  first  of  all  the  king,  tho 
man  with  the  Protean  countenance,  in 
which  storm  and  sunshine,  heaven  and 
hell,  alternately  marked  fresh  lines ;  who 
at  one  moment  was  an  inspired  enthusi- 
ast, and  the  next  a  sanguinary  tyrant — 
at  one  time  a  sentimental  connoisseur, 
and  at  another  a  sensual  glutton— the 
king,  upon  whose  constancy  no  one,  not 
even  himself,  could  build,  who  was  al- 
ways ready,  when  it  suited  his  caprice  or 
his  interest,  to  betray  his  most  devoted 
friends,  and  to  send  to  the  scaffold  to- 
morrow those  whom  he  yesterday  em- 
braced and  had  assured  him  of  his  un- 
changing   attachment— the    king,    who 
thought  himself  justified  in  allowing  his 
own  private  lusts,   his  revengeful  im- 
pulses, and  his  sanguinary  propensities 
to  go  unpunished  ;  who  was  pious  from 
vanity,  because  piety  gave  him  the  op- 
portunity of  always  identifying  his  own 
cause  with  that  of  Heaven,  and  of  re- 
garding himself  in  a  certain  manner  as 
the  champion  and  patron  of  the  Al- 
mighty. 
There  was  Lord  Douglas,  the  crafty 


THE   QUEEN'S  FRIEND. 


97 


courtier  with  the  ever-smiling  counte- 
nance, who  seemed  to  love  every  one, 
while  he  hated  all ;  who  assumed  a  look 
of  perfect  innocence,  and  appeared  in- 
different to  every  thing  except  pleasure, 
while  he  secretly  held  in  his  hands  all 
the  threads  of  the  huge  net  with  which 
the  court  and  even  the  king  himself  was 
surrounded. 

Lord  Douglas,  whom  the  king  loved 
only  because  he  called  him  the  great 
and  wise  high-priest  of  the  Church,  and 
who  was  still  the  representative  of  Lo- 
yola, and  the  faithful  and  devoted  ad- 
herent of  the  pope,  who  had  condemned 
the  king  as  a  degenerate  son,  and  handed 
him  over  to  the  wrath  of  God. 

There  were,  in  fine,  the  two  men 
with  truculent  and  sinister  features,  and 
with  faces  rigid  and  inflexible,  never 
lighted  up  by  a  smile  or  a  gleam  of 
pleasure ;  who  always  punished,  al- 
ways condemned,  and  whose  counte- 
nance only  brightened  when  the  death- 
cry  of  some  unhappy  being  on  the  scaf- 
fold, or  the  shrieks  of  anguish  of  some 
wretch  condemned  to  the  rack,  struck 
their  ear;  and  who  were  the  tormen- 
tors of  human  nature,  while  calling 
themselves  the  servants  of  God. 

"Sire,"  said  Gardiner,  as  the  king 
sank  back  slowly  on  the  ottoman,  "  let 
us  first  ask  God's  blessing  upon  our  de- 
liberations. May  the  Almighty,  who  is. 
love,  but  who  is  also  anger,  enlighten 
and  bless  us !  '7 

The  king  folded  his  hands  devoutly, 
but  it  was  only  a  prayer  of  anger  that 
rose  to  his  lips. 

"Grant,  0  God!  that  I  maybe  able 
7 


to  punish  thine  enemies,  and  everywhere 
to  crush  the  guilty !  "  he  murmured. 

"  Amen !  "  responded  Gardiner,  re- 
peating the  words  of  the  king  with  sol- 
emn earnestness. 

"  Send  us  the  lightning  of  thy  wrath," 
prayed  Wriothesley,  "that  we  may  be 
able  to  teach  the  world  to  recognize 
thy  power  and  majesty." 

Lord  Douglas  was  careful  not  to  pray 
aloud.  The  petitions  which  he  had  to 
send  up  were  not  for  the  king's  ear  to 
hear. 

"Grant,  O  Lord!"  he  inwardly 
prayed,  "  grant  that  my  scheme  succeed, 
and  that  this  dangerous  queen  may 
ascend  the  scaffold,  in  order  to  make 
way  for  my  daughter,  who  is  destined 
to  bring  back  once  more  this  criminal 
and  faithless  king  to  the  arms  of  our 
holy  mother  Church." 

"  And  now,  my  lords,"  said  the  king, 
"  how  do  matters  stand  in  our  kingdom, 
and  at  our  court  ?  " 

"  Badly,  sire !  "  returned  Gardiner. 
"  Heresy  is  daily  lifting  its  head  higher 
and  higher.  It  is  the  dragon,  which, 
when  its  head  is  cut  off,  only  causes  two 
others  to  spring  up  in  its  stead.  These 
accursed  sects  of  Reformers  and  Atheists 
are  increasing  day  by  day ;  our  dungeons 
are  no  longer  sufficient  to  hold  them; 
and  if  we  send  them  to  the  scaffold, 
their  joyful  and  courageous  conduct  in 
meeting  death  only  makes  fresh  pros- 
elytes and  sectaries." 

"  Yes,  very  badly,"  pursued  the  Chan- 
cellor "Wriothesley ; — "  in  vain  have  we 
promised  pardon  and  forgiveness  to  all 
who  should  come  back  penitent  and 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


contrite :  they  scorn  our  forgiveness, 
and  prefer  the  death  of  a  martyr  to  the 
royal  pardon.  What  boots  it  that  we 
have  burnt  Miles  Coverdale,  who  has 
had  the  hardihood  to  translate  the  Bible? 
His  death  only  appears  to  have  been 
the  alarum  bell  which  has  roused  other 
fanatics,  and  though  we  cannot  imagine 
where  all  these  books  come  from,  they 
inundate  the  whole  country,  and  we 
have  already  more  than  four  translations 
of  the  Bible.  The  people  read  them 
with  eagerness,  and  the  deadly  seeds  of 
enlightenment  and  free  thinking  wax 
daily  stronger  and  more  destructive." 

"  And  now,  my  Lord  Douglas,  what 
have  you  to  say  ?  "  asked  the  king,  as 
the  chancellor  ceased.  "These  noble 
lords  have  told  me  what  was  passing 
in  my  kingdom,  you  will  perhaps  in- 
form me  how  affairs  are  going  on  at  my 
court." 

"Sire,"  said  Douglas,  slowly  and 
gravely — for  he  wished  that  every  word 
should  sink  into  the  king's  breast  like 
a  poisoned  shaft — "  Sire,  the  people  only 
follow  the  example  which  the  court 
gives  them.  How  can  your  majesty  ex- 
pect that  the  people  should  believe, 
when  they  see  how  your  own  court  itself 
mocks  at  faith,  and  when  heretics  and 
unbelievers  find  patrons  and  abettors 
within  the  court." 

"You  accuse,  but  you  mention  no 
names,"  said  the  king  impatiently. 
"  Who  is  there  at  my  court  that  would 
dare  to  be  the  patron  of  heretics  ?  " 

"  Cranmer,  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury !  "  exclaimed  the  three  noble  lords 
in  a  breath. 


The  signal  was  given — the  bloody 
standard  was  unfurled. 

"  Oranmer  ?  "  repeated  the  king,  mus- 
ingly. "  And  yet  he  has  always  been  a 
faithful  servant  to  me,  and  a  careful 
friend.  It  was  he  who  once  delivered 
me  from  that  unhallowed  union  with 
Katharine  of  Arragon :  it  was  he  who 
also  warned  me  against  Katharine  How- 
ard, and  brought  me  the  proofs  of  her 
guilt.  Of  what  crime  do  you  accuse 
him  ? " 

"  He  denies  the  Six  Articles,"  replied 
Gardiner,  whose  sullen  countenance 
now  became  inflamed  with  an  expres- 
sion of  sinister  hate.  "He  condemns 
auricular  confession,  and  does  not  be- 
lieve that  the  vows  of  chastity,  freely 
taken,  are  binding." 

"If  he  does  that,  he  is  an  arch-trai- 
tor !  "  exclaimed  the  king,  who  loved  to 
inspire  reverence  for  chastity  and  vir- 
tue, as  a  kind  of  sacred  mantle  to  hide 
his  own  unchaste  and  profligate  life,  and 
whom  nothing  exasperated  more  than 
to  meet  another  upon  this  path  of  crime 
— which  he  himself,  by  virtue  of  his  royal 
dignity  and  his  crown,  by  God's  grace, 
could  travel  unscathed. 

"If  he  does  that,  he  is  an  arch-traitor, 
and  my  arm  of  vengeance  will  reach 
him,"  repeated  the  king  once  more. 
"  It  is  I  who  have  given  to  my  subjects 
the  Six  Articles  as  holy  dogmas  of  the 
faith,  and  I  wont  suffer  any  one  to  at- 
tack or  obscure  these  only  true  and 
just  doctrines.  But  you  err,  my  lords! 
I  know  Oranmer,  and  I  know  that  he  is 
a  faithful  believer." 

"  And  yet  it  is  he,"  returned  Gardiner, 


THE   QUEEN'S  FRIEND. 


99 


"  who  confirms  these  heretics  in  their 
obstinacy  and  hardness  of  heart ;  he  is 
the  cause  why  these  reprobates,  if  not 
from  fear  of  the  divine  vengeance,  do 
not  return  to  you  at  least  as  their  lord 
and  high-priest.  For  he  preaches  to 
them  that  God  is  love  and  mercy, — he 
teaches  them  that  Christ  came  into  the 
world  in  order  to  bring  to  the  world 
love  and  the  forgiveness  of  sin,  and  that 
those  alone  are  his  disciples  and  ser- 
vants who  imitate  his  love.  And  do 
you  not  also  perceive,  sire,  that  there  is 
a  secret  and  covert  attack  upon  your- 
self,  and  that  while  he  praises  the  love 
that  forgives,  he  at  the  same  time  at- 
tacks and  condemns  your  just  anger  that 
inflicts  punishment  ?  " 

The  king  made  no  reply  for  some 
time,  but  looked  down  gravely  and 
thoughtfully.  The  fanatical  priest  had 
gone  too  far,  and  without  knowing  it,  it 
was  he  himself  who  accused  the  king  at 
this  moment. 

Lord  Douglas  felt  this.  He  read 
upon  the  king's  countenance  that  he 
found  himself  in  one  of  those  moments 
of  contrition,  which  sometimes  over- 
took him,  when  his  mind  cast  an  in- 
voluntary glance  at  its  own  workings. 

It  was  necessary  to  rouse  the  sleep- 
ing tiger,  and  to  show  him  his  prey,  in 
order  to  renew  his  thirst  for  blood. 

"  It  would  be  all  very  well,"  he  said, 
"if  Cranmer  only  preached  Christian 
love.  In  doing  so,  he  would  only  be  a 
faithful  servant  of  his  master,  and  an 
imitator  of  his  king.  But  he  gives  the 
world  the  abominable  example  of  an  un- 
dutiful  and  traitorous  servant:  he  de- 


nies the  truth  of  the  Six  Articles,  not  in 
words  only  but  in  deeds.  You  have 
commanded  that  the  priests  of  the 
Church  should  be  unmarried.  "Well, 
then,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  is 
married !  " 

"  Married  I  "  exclaimed  the  king,  with 
anger-flaming  countenance.  u  Ah,  I'll 
punish  him — this  transgressor  of  my 
holy  laws.  A  servant  of  the  Church,  a 
priest,  whose  whole  life  should  be  de- 
voted to  holy  contemplation,  to  perpetual 
conversation  with  God,  and  whose  high 
vocation  it  is  to  renounce  all  earthly  de- 
sires and  lusts  of  the  flesh  !  He  married ! 
I  shall  make  him  feel  the  whole  rigor  of 
my  royal  anger;  he  shall  now  expe- 
rience in  his  own  person  that  the  justice 
of  the  king  is  implacable,  and  never 
fails  to  reach  the  head  of  the  guilty, 
whoever  he  be. " 

"Your  majesty  is  the  epitome  of 
justice  and  wisdom,"  said  Douglas,  "  and 
your  faithful  servants  well  know  that  if 
the  royal  justice  sometimes  delays  to 
strike  down  the  guilty,  this  occurs  not 
with  your  will,  but  by  means  of  your 
servants,  who  have  the  audacity  to  hold 
back  the  arm  of  justice." 

"WTiere  and  when  could  this  have 
taken  place  ? "  asked  Henry,  his  features 
glowing  with  anger  and  excitement. 
"  Who  is  the  offender  that  I  have  not 
punished?  Where  lives  there  in  my 
kingdom  the  being  who  has  sinned 
against  God  or  his  king,  and  whom  I 
have  not  crushed  ?  " 

"Sire,"  replied  Gardiner,  solemnly, 
"Maria  Askew  still  lives." 

"She  lives  in  order  to  mock   your 


100 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


majesty's  wisdom,  and  to  contemn  your 
holy  doctrines ! "  exclaimed  Wriothes- 
ley. 

"  She  lives  because  Archbishop  Cran- 
mer  is  unwilling  that  she  should  die," 
said  Douglas,  with  a  shrug. 

The  king  burst  forth  into  a  short,  hard 
fit  of  laughter. 

"Ah,  indeed, — so  Oranmer  is  not 
willing  that  Maria  Askew  should  die," 
he  said  derisively.  "He  is  unwilling 
that  this  young  woman,  who  has  so 
fearfully  outraged  her  king  and  her  God, 
should  be  punished  ?  " 

"Yes,  she  has  committed  a  terrible 
outrage,  and  yet  two  years  have  elapsed 
since  her  deed  of  guilt,"  exclaimed  Gar- 
diner. "  Two  years,  which  she  has  spent 
in  contemning  her  God,  and  despising 
her  king." 

"Ah,"  said  the  king,  "we  had  always 
hoped  to  bring  back  this  young  misguid- 
ed creature  from  the  ways  of  sin  and  er- 
ror to  the  paths  of  light  and  repentance. 
We  wished  at  one  time  to  give  a  striking 
example  to  our  people,  how  willingly 
we  pardon  those  who  repent  and  le- 
nounce  their  heresy,  and  how  we  again 
make  them  partakers  of  our  royal  favor. 
Hence  it  was  that  we  gave  you,  my  Lord 
Bishop,  the  commission,  by  virtue  of 
your  impressive  and  convincing  words, 
to  recover  this  poor  child  from  the 
clutches  of  Satan,  who  had  led  her 
astray." 

"But  she  is  inflexible,"  said  Gardiner, 
and  he  gnashed  his  teeth.  "In  vain 
have  I  pictured  to  her  the  torments  of 
hell  which  awaited  her  unless  she  re- 
turned to  the  faith ;  in  vain  have  I  sub- 


jected her  to  all  sorts  of  pains  and  pen- 
ances ;  in  vain  have  I  sent  other  converts 
into  her  prison  cell,  and  caused  them  to 
pray  continually  with  her  night  and  day : 
she  remains  inflexible,  as  hard  as  a  stone, 
and  neither  the  fear  of  punishment  nor 
the  prospect  of  freedom  and  happiness 
can  soften  this  heart  of  marble." 

"There  is  one  means  which  has  not 
yet  been  tried,"  said  Wriothesley.  "A 
means,  however,  which  is  a  more  effect- 
ual preacher  of  penitence  than  the  most 
inspired  orators  or  the  most  eloquent 
prayers,  and  to  which  I  am  indebted  for 
having  brought  back  many  of  the  most 
obstinate  heretics  to  God  and  to  the 
faith." 

"And  this  means?" 

"  Torture,  your  majesty !  " 

"  Ah,  torture,"  repeated  the  king,  with 
an  involuntary  shudder. 

"All  means  are  good  which  conduce 
to  so  holy  an  end !  "  said  Gardiner,  de- 
voutly clasping  his  hands. 

"  The  soul  must  be  saved  by  wounding 
the  body  to  the  quick !  "  exclaimed  Wri- 
othesley. 

"It  must  be  proved  to  the  people," 
said  Douglas,  "that  the  upright  con- 
science of  the  king  does  not  spare  even 
those  who  are  protected  by  powerful 
and  influential  persons.  The  people  mur- 
mur that,  in  this  case,  justice  is  not  suf- 
fered to  prevail,  because  Archbishop 
Cranmer  protects  Maria  Askew,  and  be- 
cause the  queen  is  her  friend." 

"The  queen  is  never  the  friend  of  a 
malefactor,"  said  Henry,  sharply. 

"  Perhaps  she  does  not  consider  Maria 
Askew  to  be  a  malefactor,"  returned 


THE  QUEEN'S  FRIEND. 


101 


Lord  Douglas,  with  a  faint  smile.  "  It  is, 
indeed,  well  known  that  Queen  Katharine 
is  a  great  friend  of  the  Keformation,  and 
the  people,  who  dare  not  call  her  a  her- 
etic, still  call  her  '  The  Protestant.'  " 

"  Then  people  really  think  that  it  is 
the  queen  who  protects  Maria  Askew 
and  saves  her  from  the  scaffold  ?  "  asked 
the  king,  musingly. 

"  That  is  what  they  think,  your  maj- 
esty." 

"  Then  they  shall  see  that  they  have 
erred,  and  that  Henry  the  Eighth  well 
deserves  to  be  called  Defender  of  the 
Faith  and  Head  of  his  Church,"  ex- 
claimed the  king,  with  rising  anger. 
*'  For  when  have  I  shown  myself  so  in- 
dulgent and  so  timid  in  punishing,  that 
people  should  think  me  disposed  to  for- 
give or  show  leniency?  Have  I  not 
caused  Thomas  More  and  Cromwell,  two 
distinguished,  and,  in  some  respects,  no- 
ble and  highminded  men,  to  mount  the 
scaffold,  because  they  dared  to  defy  my 
power,  and  to  revolt  against  the  doctrines 
and  ordinances  in  which  I  had  command- 
ed them  to  believe?  Have  I  not  sent 
two  of  my  queens  to  the  block  for  hav- 
ing roused  my  anger, — two  young  and 
beautiful  women,  in  whom  my  soul  found 
delight  even  while  I  punished  them? 
Who,  then,  after  such  striking  examples 
of  our  crushing  justice,  will  dare  to  ac- 
cuse us  of  being  indulgent  ?  " 

"  But  at  that  time,  sire,"  said  Doug- 
las, with  his  soft  insinuating  voice,  "  at 
that  time,  there  was  no  queen  at  your 
side  who  called  heretics  orthodox  be- 
lievers, and  esteemed  traitors  worthy  of 
her  friendship." 


The  king  knit  his  brow,  and  his 
angry  glance  fell  upon  the  dutiful  and 
devoted  countenance  of  the  earl. 

"You  know,"  he  exclaimed,  "that  I 
hate  these  covert  attacks.  If  you  can 
accuse  the  queen  of  any  offence — well, — 
do  it.  But  if  not,  pray  be  silent !  " 

"  The  queen  is  a  noble  and  a  virtuous 
lady,"  said  the  earl,  "only  that  she  suf- 
fers herself  at  times  to  be  led  astray  by 
her  generous  disposition.  Or  perhaps 
it  has  been  with  your  majesty's  consent 
that  my  lady,  the  queen,  holds  a  cor- 
respondence with  Maria  Askew  ?  " 

"What  do  you  mean?  The  queen 
hold  a  correspondence  with  Maria  As- 
kew ? "  exclaimed  the  king,  in  a  voice 
of  thunder.  "  This  is  a  lie — a  scandal- 
ous lie,  which  has  been  invented  in  order 
to  overthrow  the  queen;  for  it  is  well 
known  that  the  unhappy  king,  who  has 
been  so  often  deceived  and  circum- 
vented, believes,  at  length,  that  he  has 
found  in  this  woman  a  being  whom  he 
can  trust  and  in  whom  he  can  believe. 
And  people  grudge  him  this — they 
wish  to  snatch  even  this  last  hope  from 
him,  in  order  that  his  heart  may  be 
wholly  turned  to  stone,  and  that  nd 
emotion  of  mercy  may  any  longer  find 
an  entrance  to  his  bosom.  Ah,  Doug- 
las, Douglasl  beware  of  my  anger,  un- 
less you  can  prove  what  you  say  1  " 

"  I  can  prove  it,  sire !  for  it  was  only 
yesterday  that  Lady  Jane  had  to  convey 
a  note  from  Maria  Askew  to  the  queen." 

The  king  remained  silent  for  some 
time,  looking  gloomily  toward  the  floor. 
His  three  confidants  regarded  him  with 
strained  and  breathless  attention. 


102 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


At  length  the  king  raised  his  head 
and  directed  his  glance,  which  was  now 
stern  and  fixed,  toward  the  chancellor. 

"My  Lord  Chancellor  Wriothesley,"' 
he  said,  "  I  empower  you  to  take  Maria 
Askew  to  the  rack,  and  to  try  whether 
the  tortures  prepared  for  the  body  may 
not,  perchance,  have  power  to  bring 
back  this  erring  soul  to  repentance. 
My  Lord  Bishop  Gardiner,  I  give  you 
my  word,  that  I  shall  duly  attend  to 
your  accusation  against  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury  ;  and  that  if  I  find  it  jus- 
tified, he  shall  not  escape  his  punish- 
ment. My  Lord  Douglas,  I  shall  prove 
to  my  people  and  to  the  whole  world, 
that  I  am  still  the  just  and  avenging 
Vicar  of  God  upon  earth,  and  that  no 
regard  can  stem  my  anger, — no  consider- 
ation check  my  arm,  when  once  it  is 
lifted  to  strike  the  head  of  the  guilty.— 
And  now,  my  lords,  let  us  consider  this 
sitting  at  an  end.  "We  will  recruit  our- 
selves a  little  after  our  efforts,  and  ban- 
ish care  for  a  brief  season." 

"  You  are  dismissed,  my  lords  Gardi- 
ner and  Wriothesley.  Douglas,  you 
will  accompany  me  into  the  small  draw- 
ing-room. I  wish  to  see  merry  and 
laughing  faces  around  me.  Call  me, 
therefore,  John  Hey  wood,  and  if  you 
meet  any  ladies  in  the  palace,  why,  beg 
them  to  come  and  cheer  us  up  with  a 
ray  of  that  sunshine,  which  you  often 
say  is  peculiar  to  the  women." 

He  leaned,  laughing,  upon  the  earl's 
arm,  and  once  more  quitted  the  closet. 

Gardiner  and  Wriothesley  stood  in 
silence,  and  looked  after  the  king,  who 
slowly,  and  with  unwieldy  gait,  strode 


through  the  adjoining  chamber,  and 
whose  merry  and  laughing  voice  reached 
them,  and  resounded  through  the  room. 

"He  is  like  a  weather-cock,  that 
turns  each  moment  from  side  to  side," 
said  Gardiner,  with  a  derisive  shrug. 

"  He  calls  himself  the  avenging  sword 
of  God ;  and  yet  he  is  nothing  more 
than  a  weak  tool,  that  we  can  twist 
about  and  use  at  our  pleasure,"  mur- 
mured Wriothesley,  with  a  burst  of 
hoarse  laughter.  "  Poor,  miserable  fool, 
who  thinks  himself  so  great  and  power- 
ful, and  fancies  he  is  a  free,  self-govern- 
ing king,  while  in  reality  he  is  only  our 
servant  and  slave.  The  great  work  is- 
drawing  to  an  end,  and  we  shall  one 
day  triumph.  Maria  Askew's  death  will 
be  the  signal  for  a  new  league,  which 
will  save  England,  and  tread  down  the 
heretics  like  dust  under  our  feet.  And 
when  we  have  at  length  overthrown 
Cranmer,  and  led  Katharine  Parr  to  the 
scaffold,  we  shall  give  King  Henry  a 
queen  who  will  reconcile  him  once  more 
with  God,  and  with  the  only  sanctifying 
Church." 

"  Amen.  So  be  it !  "  said  Gardiner, 
and  arm  in  arm  they  both  left  the  closet. 

A  deep  silence  now  reigned  in  this 
little  room ;  and  no  one  perceived  how 
John  Heywood  stepped  from  behind  the 
curtain,  and,  for  a  moment,  wholly  ex- 
hausted and  weary,  flung  himself  down 
into  a  seat. 

"  Well,  now  I  know  the  plans,  at 
least,  of  these  bloodthirsty  tiger-cats," 
he  murmured.  "They  want  to  give 
Henry  a  Catholic  queen,  and  for  that 
reason  Cranmer  must  be  overthrown,  in 


JOIIN   HEYWOOD. 


103 


order  that  when  they  have  robbed  the 
queen  of  this  powerful  support,  they 
may  be  able  to  destroy  her  and  trample 
her  in  the  dust.  But  so  true  as  God 
lives  this  plot  shall  not  succeed !  God 
is  just,  and  he  will  finally  punish  these 
malefactors.  Ay,  and  even  if  there  were 
no  God,  we  would  rouse  the  Devil  to 
help  us.  No,  they  shall  not  ruin  the 
noble  Cranmer,  and  this  beautiful  and 
generous  queen.  I,  John  Heywood,  the 
king's  jester,  won't  have  it.  I'll  see, 
hear,  and  observe  all  that  passes.  They 
shall  find  me  everywhere  in  their  path  ; 
and  if  they  poison  the  ear  of  the  king 
with  their  diabolical  insinuations,  I'll 
cure  it  all  with  my  plavful  devilry. 
The  king's  fool  will  prove  the  queen's 
guardian  angel." 


CHAPTER  II. 

JOHN      HEYWOOD. 

AFTER  so  many  cares  and  anxieties, 
the  king  required  some  recreation  and 
amusement.  As  the  beautiful  young 
queen  was  seeking  enjoyment  in  the 
chase,  and  in  the  contemplation  of  na- 
ture, away  from  the  king,  Henry  had  to 
find  entertainment  for  himself  as  best  he 
could,  without  the  help  of  the  queen. 
His  umvitldiness  however,  and  the 
weight  of  his  flesh  prevented  him  from 
seeking  the  pleasures  of  life  outside  his 
palace.  The  lords  and  ladies  of  his 
court,  therefore,  must  needs  bring  these 
pleasures  home  to  him,  and  place  the 


flattering  goddess  of  joy,  with  folded 
wings,  opposite  the  king's  rolling  chair. 

The  gout  had  completely  overcome 
him  to-day — this  mighty  king  of  men ; 
and  as  he  sat  in  his  arm-chair,  he  looked 
a  huge  unshapen  mass. 

But  his  courtiers  still  called  him  a 
handsome  and  attractive  man,  and  the 
ladies  still  smiled  at  him,  and  told  him 
with  their  sighs  and  their  glances,  that 
they  loved  him, — that  he  was  still  to 
them  the  same  handsome  and  seductive 
man  he  had  been  twenty  years  before, 
when  he  was  still  young,  slender,  and 
elegant.  How  they  smiled  and  cast 
their  sly  glances  at  the  monarch — those 
high-born  and  lovely  women !  How 
Lady  Jane,  formerly  the  proud  and  re- 
served maiden,  tries  to  ensnare  him  with 
her  glowing  eyes,  as  with  a  net;  how 
the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  lovely  and 
voluptuous,  laughs  bewitchingly  at  the 
king's  sensual  witticisms,  and  equivocal 
puns! 

Poor  kin# !  whose  corpulence  forbade 
him  to  dance,  as  he  once  used  to  do 
with  so  much  grace  and  skill.  Poor 
king !  whose  age  forbade  him  to  sing,  as 
he  once  loved  to  do,  to  the  delight  of 
his  court. 

But  still  there  are  some  delicious  and 
exquisite  moments  full  of  enjoyment, 
when  the  man  once  more  revives  in  the 
monarch — when  youth  once  more  opens 
the  eyes  of  the  king,  and  smiles  upon 
him  with  some  sweet  and  blissful  joys. 

The  king  has,  at  least,  eyes  still  left 
to  see  beauty,  and  a  heart  to  feel  its 
effects. 

"  How  beautiful  Lady  Jane  is,— that 


104 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


fair  lily  with  the  dark,  star-glistening 
eyes, — how  beautiful  is  her  grace  of 
Eichmond,  this  full-blown  purple  rose, 
with  the  pearly-white  teeth ! " 

And  they  both  smile  upon  him,  and 
when  the  king  swears  that  he  loves 
them,  they  blush  and  sigh  with  down- 
cast looks. 

uDo  you  sigh,  Jane,  because  you 
love  me?" 

"Oh,  sire,  you  mock  me.  It  would 
be  a  crime  in  me  to  love  you,  for  Queen 
Katharine  is  alive." 

"  Yes,  she  is  alive ! "  murmured  the 
king,  and  his  brow  grew  dark,  and  the 
smile  vanished  for  a  moment  from  his 
lips. 

Lady  Jane  had  made  a  mistake.  She 
had  reminded  the  king  of  his  wife,  when 
it  was  yet  too  soon  for  her  death. 

John  Hey  wood  read  this  on  the  coun- 
tenance of  his  royal  master,  and  resolved 
to  profit  by  it.  He  wished  to  divert 
the  king's  attention,  and  to  lead  his 
thoughts  away  from  these  beautiful  and 
bewitching  ladies  who  dazzled  him  with 
their  charms. 

"  Yes,  the  queen  lives !  "  he  repeated, 
with  animation.  "  And  God  be  thanked 
she  does !  For  how  dreary  and  tedious 
would  it  be  at  this  court,  if  we  had  not 
beside  us  our  beautiful  queen,  who  is  as 
wise  as  Methusalem,  and  as  innocent  as 
a  new-born  child.  You  join  with  me, 
Lady  Jane,  do  you  not,  in  saying,  God 
be  thanked  the  queen  lives  ? " 

"I  do !  "  said  Lady  Jane,  with  ill- 
dissembled  chagrin. 

"And  you,  King  Henry,  don't  you 
say  so  too  ? " 


"Certainly,  fool!" 

"Ah,  would  I  were  King  Henry?" 
sighed  John  Hey  wood.  u  King,  I  envy 
you,  not  your  crown  and  royal  sceptre, 
not  your  courtiers  and  your  wealth — I 
only  envy  you,  that  you  can  say,  praised 
be  God,  my  wife  still  lives! — while  I 
never  hear  any  other  phrase,  than  would 
to  God  my  wife  were  not  alive!  Ah 
very  rarely,  king,  have  I  heard  a  hus- 
band speak  otherwise.  In  this,  as  in  all 
other  matters,  you  are  an  exception, 
King  Henry,  and  your  people  will  never 
love  you  more  ardently  or  sincerely 
than  when  you  say,  thank  God  that  my 
wife  lives !  Trust  me,  you  are,  perhaps, 
the  only  man  at  your  court  who  would 
imitate  you  in  saying  so,  however  ready 
they  are  to  become  your  parrots,  and  to 
repeat  what  is  said  by  their  lord  high- 
priest." 

"  The  only  man  that  loves  his  wife !  " 
said  the  Duchess  of  Kichmond.  "  Only 
listen  to  the  chattering  clown  !  Then 
you  don't  believe  that  we  women  desire 
to  be  loved?" 

"  I  am  convinced  that  you  do  not." 
v   "  And  what  do  you  take  us  for  then  ? " 

"  For  cats,  which  God  has  put  into  a 
smooth  skin,  not  having  any  more  cat- 
skins  to  spare." 

'*  Take  care,  John,  that  we  don't 
show  you  our  claws,"  said  the  duchess, 
laughing. 

"  Please  yourself,  my  lady  duchess. 
I  shall  only  make  the  sign  of  the  cross 
and  you'll  vanish,  for,  you  know,  devils 
can't  bear  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  ye 
women  are  devils." 

John  Hey  wood,  who  was  an  accom- 


JOHH   HKYWOOD. 


105 


plished  singer,  seized  the  mandolin  that 
lay  beside  him,  and  began  to  sing. 

It  was  a  song  such  as  was  only  possi- 
ble at  that  period,  and  at  Henry's 
voluptuous  and  hypocritical  court.  A 
song  full  of  the  most  licentious  allusions, 
of  the  most  offensive  jests  against  monks 
and  women — which  made  the  king 
laugh  and  the  ladies  blush,  and  in  which 
John  Heywood  had  poured  forth  in 
glowing  strains  all  his  secret  anger 
against  Gardiner,  the  sneaking  and  hyp- 
ocritical priest,  and  against  Lady  Jane, 
the  false  and  dissembling  friend  of  the 
queen. 

But  the  ladies  did  not  laugh.  They 
directed  looks  full  of  anger  at  John 
Key  wood,  and  Lady  Kichmond  de- 
manded gravely  and  urgently  that  the 
traitor  should  be  punished,  who  had  so 
dared  to  calumniate  women. 

The  king  laughed  still  more.  The  anger 
of  the  ladies  was  so  infinitely  diverting. 

"  Sire,"  said  the  beautiful  Richmond, 
"  he  has  offended  not  us  alone  but  all  our 
sex,  and  in  the  name  of  our  sex  I  de- 
mand that  this  outrage  be  revenged." 

44  Yes,  revenge  !  "  cried  Lady  Jane, 
passionately. 

"Only  see  what  pious  and  gentle 
doves  you  are !  "  returned  John  Hey- 
wood. 

"Very  well,  then,  you  shall  have 
your  will — you  shall  chastise  him,"  said 
the  king,  laughing. 

u  Yes,  yes,  flog  me  with  scourges,  as 
the  Messiah  was  once  flogged  for  having 
told  the  Pharisees  tho  truth.  Just  see. 
I  am  putting  on  the  crown  of  thorns 
already." 


And  with  a  grave  air  he  took  the 
king's  velvet  cap  and  raised  it  to  his 
head. 

"  Yes,  flog  him,  flog  him,"  cried  the 
king  laughing,  as  he  pointed  to  the  huge 
porcelain  vases  which  contained  im- 
mense rose  bushes,  from  the  long  stems 
of  which  a  prickly  forest  of  thorns 
rose  up. 

"Turn  those  large  bouquets  round 
the  other  way, — take  the  roses  in  your 
hands,  and  flog  him  with  the  stems !  " 
said  the  king,  and  his  eyes  glistened  with 
grim  delight,  for  the  scene  promised  to 
be  highly  interesting.  The  stems  of  the 
rose  bushes  were  long  and  hard,  and  the 
thorns  upon  them  were  pointed  and 
sharp  as  daggers.  How  would  they 
penetrate  his  flesh,  and  how  he  would 
cry  out  and  make  wry  faces — the  honest 
fool! 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  must  take  off  his  coat, 
and  we  will  flog  him,"  cried  the  Duchess 
of  .Richmond,  and  the  other  ladies  cried 
out  after  her  in  chorus,  anji  like  furies 
they  rushed  upon  him,  and  forced  him 
to  doff  his  silken  overcoat.  Then  has- 
tening to  the  vases  they  tore  out  the 
rose  bushes,  and  skilfully  selected  the 
longest  and  strongest  stems,  and  scream- 
ed with  delight  when  the  thorns  were 
very  large  and  sharp,  and  so  would 
pierce  deep  into  the  flesh  of  the  of- 
fender. 

The  laughter  and  the  shouts  of  ap- 
plause of  the  king  encouraged  them 
more  and  more,  and  made  them  still 
more  excited  and  furious. 

Their  cheeks  glowed,  their  eyes  glis- 
tened ;  they  resembled  the  Bacchantes 


106 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


who,  with  their  cry  Evoe!  Evoe!  sur- 
round the  god  of  mad  festivity. 

"Not  yet!  Don't  strike  yet,"  ex- 
claimed the  king.  "You  must  first 
strengthen  yourselves  for  the  enterprise 
and  give  energy  to  your  arm  for  a 
weighty  stroke." 

He  took  the  large  golden  heaker  that 
stood  before  him  and  handed  it  to  Lady 
Jane. 

"Drink,  Lady  Jane,  drink,  and  give 
strength  to  your  arm  !  " 

And  they  all  drank,  and  with  animat- 
ed smiles  pressed  their  lips  to  the  place 
which  the  king's  mouth  had  touched; 
and  now  their  eyes  grew  more  inflamed 
and  their  cheeks  glowed  with  fresh  ardor. 

It  was  a  singular  and  piquant  specta- 
cle, to  see  all  these  beautiful  women 
glowing  with  malicious  joy,  and  thirst 
for  revenge, — all  of  whom,  for  the  mo- 
ment had  laid  aside  their  gentler  attrac- 
tions and  their  proud  and  haughty  looks, 
in  order  to  transform  themselves  into 
riotous  Bacchantes,  who  wished  to 
chastise  the  insolent  transgressor,  that 
had  so  often  and  so  severely  scourged 
them  all  with  his  tongue. 

"  How  I  wish  we  had  a  painter  here !  " 
said  the  king.  "  He  should  paint  us  a 
picture  of  the  chaste  Nymphs  of  Diana 
persecuting  Actseon.  You  are  Action, 
John." 

"  But  they  are  not  the  chaste  nymphs, 
king — certainly  not,"  said  John  Hey- 
wood,  laughing,  "and  between  these 
beautiful  ladies  and  Diana,  I  see  no  re- 
semblance— but  only  a  difference." 

"  And  wherein  consists  the  difference, 
John?" 


"In  this,  sire,  that  whereas  Diana 
carried  her  horn  at  her  side,  these  beau- 
tiful ladies  cause  their  husbands  to  wear 
it — on  their  foreheads." 

A  peal  of  laughter  from  the  gentle- 
men, and  a  scream  of  rage  from  the  la- 
dies, was  the  answer  to  this  new  epi- 
gram of  John  Hey  wood. 

They  arranged  themselves  in  two 
rows,  and  formed  a  lane  through  which 
John  Heywood  must  pass. 

"Come  on,  John  Heywood!  Come 
and  receive  your  punishment !  " 

And  they  raised  their  thorny  scourges, 
and  swung  them  with  angry  gestures 
high  above  their  heads. 

The  scene  certainly  began  to  be  very 
piquant  for  John  Heywood,  for  these 
scourges  had  very  sharp  thorns  on 
them,  and  his  back  was  defended  by 
only  a  fine  linen  shirt. 

Meanwhile,  with  unflinching  step,  he 
approached  the  fatal  passage  through 
which  he  must  run  the  gauntlet.  Al- 
ready he  saw  the  scourges  waving  be- 
hind him,  and  he  felt  as  if  the  thorns 
were  already  pricking  his  back. 

He  remained  standing,  and  with 
laughter  in  his  eyes,  turned  round  tow- 
ard the  king,  "  Sire,  as  you  have  con- 
demned me  to  die  by  the  hands  of  these 
nymphs,  I  must  claim  the  right  of  every 
culprit  about  to  suffer — a  last  favor." 

"  Which  we  grant  you,  John !  " 

"I  claim  the  right  of  imposing  a 
condition  upon  these  fair  ladies — the 
condition  upon  which  they  shall  scourge 
me.  Will  your  majesty  grant  it?  " 

"I  will." 

"And  you  will  give  me  your  royal 


JOHN   HEYWOOD. 


107 


word,  that  this  condition  shall  be  faith- 
fully observed  and  performed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  royal  word." 

"  Well  then !  "  exclaimed  John  Hey- 
wood,  as  he  entered  the  defile,  "my 
condition  is  this :  The  lady  among  you 
all  who  has  had  the  greatest  number  of 
lovers,  and  who  has  crowned  her  hus- 
band the  oftenest,  shall  deliver  the  first 
blow  upon  my  back." 

A  deep  silence  ensued.  The  up- 
lifted arms  of  the  beautiful  ladies  were 
suddenly  relaxed,  and  the  rose-trees  fell 
from  their  hands  to  the  ground.  But  a 
moment  since,  they  were  filled  with 
spite  and  revenge,  and  now  they  have 
become  the  mildest  and  gentlest  beings 
in  the  world. 

But  had  their  glances  been  able  to 
kill,  the  latent  fire  thereof  must  have 
consumed  the  hapless  John  Hey  wood, 
who  now  looked  round  at  them  with 
derisive  laughter. 

"Now,  my  ladies,  why  don't  you 
strike  ?  "  asked  the  king. 

"We  despise  him  too  much,  your 
majesty,  even  to  wish  to  chastise  him," 
said  the  Duchess  of  Richmond. 

"Then,  in  that  case,  your  enemy  will 
have  offended  you  unpunished?"  in- 
quired the  king.  "  No,  no,  my  ladies,  it 
shall  not  be  said  that  there  is  a  man  in 
ray  kingdom  whom  I  would  have  suffered 
to  escape  a  well-merited  punishment! 
We  will  there-fore  impose  another  pen- 
alty upon  him.  He  calls  himself  a  poet, 
and  has  often  boasted  that  he  could 
cause  his  pen  to  move  as  nimbly  as  he 
p  his  tongue.  Well  then,  John, 
prove  to  us  that  thou  art  no  vain 


boaster.  I  command  thee  to  write  an 
interlude  for  the  great  court  festival, 
which  will  take  place  a  few  days  hence ; 
— such  an  interlude,  hark  ye,  John,  as 
shall  afford  mirth  to  the  most  serious, 
and  which  shall  make  these  ladies 
langh  so  heartily  as  to  forget  all  their 
anger !  " 

"  Oh !  "  replied  John,  plaintively, 
"  what  an  equivocal  and  disorderly 
composition  it  must  be,  if  intended  to 
make  these  ladies  laugh  and  be  merry. 
In  that  case,  my  king,  in  order  to 
please  these  dear  ladies,  we  must  for- 
get a  little  of  our  modesty  and  bashful- 
ness,  and  not  stand  upon  ceremony  or 
delicate  reserve ;  and  we  must  endeavor 
.to  speak  as  freely  as  possible — in  the 
sense  in  which  ladies  understand  license 
of  speech." 

"  You  are  a  wretch  !  "  said  Lady 
Jane.  "  A  common  hypocritical  fool !  " 

"Lord  Douglas,  your  daughter  speaks 
with  you,"  said  John  Hey  wood,  calmly. 
"  Your  affectionate  daughter  flatters  you 
very  much." 

"Well,  John?  "  asked  the  king,  "you 
have  understood  my  command,  and  you 
will  fulfil  it?  This  festival  was  to  have 
taken  place  within  four  days.  I  shall 
postpone  it  for  two  days  longer.  In  six 
days,  therefore,  from  this  time,  you  will 
have  prepared  a  new  interlude  for  us. 
And  if  he  fail,  my  ladies,  then  you  shall 
scourge  him  unconditionally  and  with- 
out compunction,  until  the  blood 
comes  1  " 

A  loud  noise,  and  the  clatter  of 
horses'  hoofs  was  now  heard  below  iu 
the  court-yard. 


108 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


"The  queen  has  returned!"  ex- 
claimed John  Hey  wood,  and  his  face 
beamed  with  delight,  while  he  directed 
a  look  of  smiling,  hut  malicious,  satis- 
faction at  Lady  Jane.  "There  now 
remains  for  you  nothing  further  to 
do  than  to  go  and  meet  your  mistress 
on  the  grand  staircase,  and  render  your 
services, — for  as  you  lately  observed  with 
so  much  wisdom, — 'THE  QUEEN  STILL 
LIVES!'" 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  John 
Heywood  sprang  forward,  and  rushed 
along  through  the  anterooms  and  down 
the  steps  to  meet  the  queen.  Lady 
Jane  looked  after  him  with  a  glance  of 
anger  and  resentment,  and  as  she 
slowly  advanced  toward  the  door  in 
order  to  attend  upon  the  queen,  she 
murmured  gently  from  between  her 
compressed  lips:  "The  fool  must  die, 
for  he  is  the  friend  of  the  queen !  " 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE     CONFIDANT. 

THE  queen  was  ascending  the  steps 
of  the  grand  staircase,  and  she  greeted 
John  Heywood  with  a  friendly  smile. 

"Your  majesty,"  he  said  aloud,  "I 
have  a  few  private  words  to  say  to  you 
in  the  name  of  the  king !  " 

"  Private  words !  "  repeated  Katha- 
rine, as  she  stood  still  on  the  landing. 
"Well  then,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  will 
you  retire  a  moment,  while  we  receive 
the  private  message  of  his  majesty." 


The  royal  retinue  withdrew  silently 
and  respectfully  into  the  large  anterooms 
of  the  palace,  while  the  queen  remained 
behind  with  John  Heywood. 

"Now,  John,  what  is  the  mes- 
sage ? " 

"  Attend,  queen,  to  my  words  and  en- 
grave them  upon  your  memory!  A 
plot  has  been  formed  against  you,  and  in 
a  few  days — at  the  great  court  festival — 
it  will  be  ripe  for  execution.  Be  watch- 
ful, therefore,  over  every  word  you  utter, 
and  even  keep  a  check  upon  your 
thoughts.  Beware  of  every  dangerous 
step,  for  you  may  be  sure  that  you  will 
always  have  a  spy  at  your  side.  And  if 
you  should  need  a  confidant  for  any 
purpose,  trust  to  no  one  but  to  me.  I 
tell  you  that  great  danger  threatens  you, 
and  only  by  prudence  and  caution  will 
you  be  able  to  escape  it." 

On  this  occasion  the  queen  did  not 
laugh  at  the  warning  voice  of  her 
friend.  She  looked  grave — she  even 
trembled. 

She  had  lost  her  proud  assurance  and 
her  cheerful  confidence — she  was  no 
longer  blameless — she  had  a  dangerous 
secret  to  preserve, — she  was,  therefore, 
fearful  of  its  discovery,  and  she  trem- 
bled, not  for  herself  alone,  but  for  him 
she  loved. 

"  And  in  what  does  this  plot  consist?" 
she  asked  with  a  shudder. 

"  As  yet,  I  know  not — I  only  know 
that  it  exists.  But,  I  shall  find  it  out, 
and  if  your  enemies  lurk  like  spies 
around  you — why,  in  that  case,  I  shall 
put  on  my  spectacles  to  watch  their 
movements." 


THE   CONFIDANT. 


109 


"And  am  I  the  only  person  whom 
they  threaten?" 

"No.  Your  friend  also  is  in  danger, 
queen !  " 

Katharine  trembled.  "  Which  friend, 
John  ? " 

"  Archbishop  Cranmer !  " 

"  Ah  !  the  archbishop !  "  she  repeat- 
ed, breathing  more  freely.  "  And  is 
that  all,  John  ?  Does  their  enmity  pur- 
sue him  and  myself  only?  " 

"  Only  you  both !  "  said  John  Hey- 
wood,  pensively,  for  he  well  understood 
the  relieved  breathing  of  the  queen ;  and 
he  knew  that  she  had  trembled  for 
another.  "  But,  remember,  queen,  that 
the  overthrow  of  Cranrner  would  also 
be  your  own  destruction;  and  that  as 
you  protect  the  archbishop,  so  also  he 
protects  you  with  the  king — you  and 
your  friends,  too,  queen." 

Katharine  started  slightly,  and  her 
color  deepened. 

u  I  shall  always  remember  him,  and 
shall  never  cease  to  be  a  true  and  sted- 
f:i<t  friend  both  to  him  and  to  you,  for 
you  both  are  my  only  friends,  are  you 
not?" 

"No,  your  majesty.  I  spoke  to  you 
of  a  third  also — of  Thomas  Seymour." 

"Oh,  of  him!"  she  cried,  with  a 
sweet  smile.  Then  she  added,  suddenly, 
in  a  rapid  undertone:  "You  said  I 
should  trust  no  one  here  but  you.  Well, 
then,  I  will  give  you  a  proof  of  my  con- 
fidence. Wait  for  me  to-night  at  twelve 
o'clock  in  the  green  garden  saloon.  You 
shall  be  my  attendant  on  a  dangerous 
excursion.  Have  you  courage,  John  ?" 

"  Yes ;  courage  to  die  for  you,  queen." 


"Then  come;  but  bring  arms  with 
you." 

"As  you  command.  But  are  these 
your  only  orders  to-day  ?  " 

"  That  is  all,  John.  Only,"  she  added, 
with  hesitation,  and  blushing  slightly, 
"  only,  if  you  should  chance  to  meet 
Lord  Sudley,  tell  him  that  I  have  com- 
missioned you  with  greetings  for  him." 

"  Oh !  "  sighed  John  Hey  wood,  sadly. 

"He  has  to-day  saved  my  life,  John," 
she  added,  as  if  by  way  of  excuse.  "It 
is,  therefore,  right  that  I  should  be  grate- 
ful to  him." 

And  nodding  to  him  in  a  friendly 
manner,  she  entered  the  palace. 

"  Now,  who  will  say  that  accident  is 
not  the  most  malicious  and  spiteful  of 
all  devils,"  murmured  John  Hey  wood. 
"  This  devil  throws  in  the  queen's  way 
just  the  very  man  whom  she  should 
avoid  most  of  all ;  and  makes  it  neces- 
sary that  she  should,  at  the  same  time,  be 
most  deeply  bound  in  gratitude  to  the 
man  she  loves.  Ho!  ho!  then  he  has 
saved  her  life.  Who  knows,  however, . 
but  he  may  one  day  be  the  means  of  her 
losing  it." 

He  bent  his  head  pensively  on  his 
breast,  when  he  suddenly  heard  a  voice 
behind  him,  which  gently  called  him  by 
name ;  and,  as  he  turned  round,  he  saw 
the  young  princess  Elizabeth,  who,  with 
rapid  steps,  was  hastening  after  him. 

She  was  very  beautiful  at  this  mo- 
ment. Her  eyes  flashed  with  the  fire  of 
passion  ;  her  cheeks  glowed,  and  round 
her  thin,  crimson  lips  played  a  gentle 
smile  expressive  of  happiness.  Accord- 
ing to  the  fashion  of  the  time,  she  wore 


110 


HENRY  YIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


a  closely-fitting  robe  reaching  to  the 
throat,  which  set  off  the  delicate  outline 
of  her  slender  and  youthful  figure, 
while  the  large  high  ruffle  concealed  the 
somewhat  excessive  length  of  her  neck, 
and  made  her  fresh  and  almost  childlike 
face  stand  out  as  from  a  pedestal.  On 
both  sides  of  her  high  and  thoughtful 
brow  fell  bright  auburn  locks  in  wanton 
lavishness ;  her  head  was  adorned  with  a 
dark  velvet  cap,  from  which  a  white 
feather  descended  to  her  shoulder. 

Altogether  she  presented  a  very  love- 
ly and  attractive  appearance,  full  of 
nobleness  and  grace,  full  of  fire  and 
energy;  and,  despite  her  youthfulness, 
not  wanting  in  a  certain  lofty  dignity. 
Elizabeth,  though  still  almost  a  child, 
and  although  much  humbled  by  misfor- 
tune, was  yet  the  true  daughter  of  her 
father;  and  although  Henry  had  de- 
clared her  illegitimate,  and  had  excluded 
her  from  the  succession,  yet  she  bore 
the  stamp  of  her  royal  lineage  upon  her 
proud  and  thoughtful  brow,  and  in  her 
keen,  flashing  glance. 

As  she  now  stood  before  John  Hey- 
wood,  she  was  no  longer  the  haughty 
and  imperious  princess,  but  only  the 
timid  and  blushing  damsel,  who  trem- 
bles at  confiding  her  first  maiden  secret 
to  the  ear  of  another,  and  who  only 
ventures  with  trembling  hand  to  draw 
aside  the  veil  which  hides  her  heart. 

"John  Hey  wood,"  she  said,  "you 
have  often  told  me  that  you  love  me, 
and  indeed  I  know  that  my  poor  un- 
happy mother  trusted  you,  and  called 
you  as  a  witness  of  her  innocence.  At 
that  time  you  were  unable  to  save  the 


mother;  but  will  you  now  serve  the 
daughter  of  Anne  Bullen,  and  be  a  faith- 
ful friend  to  her  ?  " 

"  I  will,"  replied  John  Heywood, 
solemnly,  "  and  as  truly  as  there  is  a 
heaven  above  us,  you  shall  never  find  in 
me  a  traitor." 

"  I  believe  you,  John ;  I  know  that  I 
may  trust  you.  Listen,  therefore.  I 
will  now  tell  you  my  secret — a  secret 
which  no  one  knows  but  God,  and  the 
betrayal  of  which  might  lead  me  to  the 
scaffold.  Will  you,  then,  swear  to  me 
not  to  reveal  to  any  one,  under  any  pre- 
text or  motive  whatsoever,  a  word  of 
what  I  am  about  to  tell  you.  Will  you 
swear  to  me  not  to  confide  this  secret  to 
any  one,  even  upon  your  dying  bed,  and 
not  even  to  disclose  it  in  the  confes- 
sional?" 

"Well,  as  to  that  matter,  prim 
you  may  feel  perfectly  secure.  I  never 
go  to  confession,  for  confession  is  a  sort 
of  priestly  pabulum  which  my  palate  has 
rejected  for  many  a  long  day;  and  as 
regards  my  death-bed,  one  cannot  be 
quite  sure,  under  the  pious  and  blessed 
reign  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  that  he  will 
really  have  such  an  accommodation,  or 
that  he  may  not  make  the  journey  to 
eternity  in  a  much  easier  and  speedier 
fashion,  by  the  aid  of  the  headsman." 

"Oh!  pray  be  serious,  John,  I  en- 
treat you !  Let  not  the  jester's  mask, 
under  which  you  conceal  your  more 
grave  and  your  better  countenance,  now 
hide  your  true  features  from  me.  Be 
serious,  John,  and  swear  to  me  that  you  .„ 
will  keep  my  secret." 

"  Well,  then,  I  will  swear  to  do  so, 


THE   CONFIDANT. 


Ill 


princess.  I  swear  to  you,  by  the  spirit 
of  your  mother,  never  to  betray  a  word 
of  what  you  shall  tell  me." 

"  I  thank  you,  John.  Now  stoop  for- 
ward, closer,  that  even  the  air  may  not 
catch  one  of  my  words  and  bear  it 
away.  John,  I  am  hi — love !  " 

She  perceived  the  half-surprised,  half- 
incredulous  smile  which  played  round 
John  Heywood's  lips. 

uAh,"  she  continued,  passionately, 
"  you  do  not  believe  me.  You  think  to 
yourself  that  as  I  am  but  fourteen  years 
old,  I  am  only  a  child,  who  can  know 
nothing  of  the  feelings  of  a  woman.  But 
remember,  John,  that  young  damsels 
who  live  under  a  warm  sun,  soon  attain 
maturity  from  the  influence  of  its  glow- 
ing beams,  and  are  already  women  and 
mothers,  while  they  should  still  be  chil- 
dren, living  in  dream-land.  Believe  me, 
John,  I  am  deeply  in  love.  An  ardent 
and  consuming  tire  rages  within  me — it 
is  at  once  my  torment  and  my  delight — 
my  happiness,  and  my  future  hope.  As 
I  shall  never  be  a  queen,  I  wish  at  least 
to  be  loved  and  to  be  happy  as  a  wife. 
And  if  I  am  condemned  to  a  life  of  low- 
line-*?  and  obscurity,  it  shall  not  at  least 
be  denied  me  to  adorn  this  dark  and  in- 
glorious existence  with  flowers,  which 
do  not  thrive  at  the  foot  of  the  throne, 
and  to  illumine  it,  as  if  with  stars,  more 
brilliant  than  the  splendors  of  the  most 
dazzling  royal  diadem." 

"  Oh,  you  only  mistake  yourself  and 
your  own  motives,"  said  John  Heywood, 
pensively.  "You  only  choose  the  one 
because  the  other  course  is  denied  you ; 
you  only  wish  to  love,  because  you  can't 


govern  ;  and  as  your  heart  which  thirst* 
for  glory  and  for  fame,  can  find  no  other 
object  of  content,  you  wish  to  appease 
its  thirst  with  some  other  potion,  and  so 
you  offer  it  love  as  an  opiate,  with  which 
to  lull  its  burning  pains  to  rest.  Believe 
me,  princess,  you  do  not  yet  know  your- 
self; you  are  not  born  merely  to  fulfil 
the  part  of  an  affectionate  wife;  your 
brow  is  far  too  lofty  and  too  proud  to 
wear  only  a  crown  of  myrtle.  Consider 
well,  therefore,  what  you  are  doing, 
princess.  Do  not  suffer  yourself  to  be 
hurried  away  by  the  passionate  blood 
of  your  father,  which  surges  in  your 
veins  also.  Reflect  well  before  you  act. 
Your  foot  still  rests  on  one  of  the  steps 
of  the  throne.  Withdraw  it  not  of  your 
own  accord !  Maintain  your  place,  and 
then  the  next  step  brings  you  one  de* 
gree  nearer.  Renounce  not  willingly 
your  just  claims,  but  await  patiently  for 
the  day  of  retribution  and  justice.  Only 
do  not,  yourself,  render  it  impossible 
that  a  complete  and  splendid  satisfaction 
should  then  be  offered  you.  The  PEIX- 
CESS  Elizabeth  may  indeed  some  day  be- 
come a  queen,  provided  she  have  not  ex- 
changed her  name  for  one  of  less  glory 
and  distinction." 

"  John  Heywood,"  she  replied,  with  a 
charming  smile,  "  I  told  you  truly  when 
I  said  I  loved  him." 

"  Well,  continue  to  love  him  still,  by 
all  means,  but  do  so  in  secret,  and  do 
not  let  him  know  it,  but  teach  your  love 
the  art  of  resignation." 

"  He  knows  it  already,  John." 

"  Alas !  poor  princess ;  you  are  in- 
deed still  like  a  child,  which  grasps  at 


112 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


the  fire  with  smiling  hardihood  and 
scorches  its  hands,  because  it  knows 
not  that  fire  burns." 

"  Let  it  burn,  John,  burn  away,  and 
let  its  flames  meet  above  my  head. 
Better  far  to  be  consumed  by  such  a 
fire,  than  to  die  a  wretched  and  linger- 
ing death  from  cold !  I  tell  you  I  love 
him,  and  he  knows  it  already." 

"  Well,  love  him  if  you  will ;  but  at 
least,  do  not  marry  him,"  cried  John 
Heywood,  peevishly. 

"  Marry !  "  she  exclaimed  with  sur- 
prise. "  Marry  !  Why  I  never  dreamed 
of  such  a  thing  at  present." 

She  bent  her  head  upon  her  breast, 
and  stood  for  some  moments  plunged  in 
thought. 

"I  greatly  fear  I  have  been  talking 
nonsense !  "  murmured  John  Heywood. 
"I  have  suggested  a  new  train  of 
thought  to  her.  Ah,  King  Henry  did 
right  in  appointing  me  his  fool.  Just 
when  we  think  ourselves  wisest,  we  are 
greater  fools  than  ever." 

"  John,"  said  Elizabeth,  as  she  again 
raised  her  head,  and  looked  smilingly, 
and  with  an  ardent  glance,  at  the  court- 
jester,  "John,  you  are  quite  right. 
When  people  love  each  other  they 
should  marry." 

"  But  I  said  just  the  contrary,  prin- 
cess !  " 

"It  is  well,"  she  exclaimed,  with 
decision.  "  All  this  belongs  to  the  fu- 
ture. We  will  now  occupy  ourselves 
with  the  present.  I  have  promised  my 
lover  an  interview." 

"  An  interview  1  "  cried  John  Hey- 
v.  wood,  astonished.  "You  will  surely 


not  be  so  foolhardy  as  to  keep  your 
promise." 

"John  Heywood,"  she  replied,  with 
an  air  of  grave  solemnity,  "  King 
Henry's  daughter  will  never  give  a 
promise  without  keeping  it.  Whatever 
good  or  ill  betide,  I  shall  always  be  true 
to  my  word,  once  given — even  though 
it  should  conduce  to  my  grievous  unhap- 
piness  and  destruction." 

John  Heywood  did  not  venture  to 
oppose  her  further.  There  was  at  this 
moment  something  peculiarly  noble  and 
truly  royal  in  her  demeanor,  which  im- 
posed upon  him,  and  before  which  he 
bowed. 

"  I  have  promised  him  an  interview, 
because  he  wished  it,"  she  continued, 
"  and  I  will  not  conceal  from  you,  John, 
that  my  own  heart  was  disposed  to 
grant  his  request.  Do  not  therefore 
seek  to  shake  my  resolution ;  it  is  as 
firm  as  a  rock.  If,  however,  you  are 
unwilling  to  assist  me — say  so,  and  then 
I  shall  look  elsewhere  for  some  friend 
who  shall  love  me  sufficiently  well  to 
impose  silence  on  his  doubts." 

"But  who  will  probably  go  and  be- 
tray you,  princess.  No,  no;  as  your 
resolution  is  unchangeable,  no  one  but 
myself  shall  be  your  confidant.  Tell 
me,  therefore,  wh/it  I  am  to  do,  and  I 
shall  obey  you." 

"You  know,  John,  that  my  apart- 
ments are  situated  in  that  wing  of  the 
palace  which  faces  the  garden.  Well, 
then,  I  have  discovered  behind  a  large 
picture  on  the  wall  of  my  toilet  cham- 
ber, a  secret  door  which  opens  into  a 
dark  and  unfrequented  corridor  leading 


THE   CONFIDANT. 


113 


to  that  tower  which  you  see  beyond. 
This  tower  is  never  occupied.  No  one 
ever  thinks  of  visiting  that  part  of  the 
palace.  The  rooms  are  as  silent  as  the 
grave,  but  are  nevertheless  furnished 
with  truly  royal  splendor.  It  is  there 
that  I  intend  to  receive  him  !  " 

u  But  how  is  he  to  reach  the  spot?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  be  uneasy  about  that.  I 
have  thought  over  the  matter  for  sev- 
eral days;  and  while  I  always  denied 
my  lover  the  interview  for  which  he 
besought  me,  I  was  silently  preparing 
every  thing,  in  order  that  I  might  one 
day  be  able  to  grant  his  request.  This 
day  the  goal  is  reached,  and  this  day  I 
fulfil  his  wish,  wholly  of  my  own  free 
will,  because  I  perceived  that  he  had 
no  longer  the  courage  to  renew  his  re- 
quest. Listen,  then ;  from  the  tower  a 
winding  staircase  leads  down  to  a  small 
door  by  which  the  garden  is  reached. 
For  that  door  I  have  a  key.  Here  it  is. 
With  this  key  in  his  possession  he  has 
nothing  more  to  do  than  in  the  evening, 
instead  of  leaving  the  palace,  to  remain 
behind  in  the  park,  and  by  means  of  this 
key  he  will  be  able  to  reach  me ;  for  I 
shall  wait  for  him  in  the  large  tower 
saloon  which  lies  exactly  opposite  the 
flight  of  steps.  Here,  take  the  key,  and 
give  it  to  him,  and  repeat  to  him  all 
tli at  I  have  told  you." 

"  Very  good,  princess.  There  only  re- 
mains that  you  should  fix  the  hour  at 
which  you  will  receive  him." 

"The  hour?"  she  repeated,  turning 
aside  to  hide  her  blushes.  "  You  will 
readily  understand,  John,  that  it  is  not 
possible  to  receive  him  there  in  the  day 


time.  I  have  not  a  single  moment 
which  I  can  call  my  own,  unobserved." 

'*  You  will  accordingly  receive  him  at 
night,"  returned  John  Heywood,  pen- 
sively. "  At  what  hour  ? " 

"At  midnight !  And  now  you  know 
all,  and  I  beg  you,  John,  to  make  haste, 
and  convey  my  message  to  him,  for  you 
see  the  sun  is  setting  and  it  will  soon  be 
night." 

She  nodded  10  him  with  a  smile  and 
turned  to  go. 

"  Princess,  you  have  as  yet  forgotten, 
the  most  important  point.  You  have 
not  yet  told  me  his  name." 

"  "What !  did  you  not  guess  it  your- 
self? John  Heywood,  who  has  such 
keen  eyes,  not  to  perceive  that  there  is 
at  this  court  but  one  person  who  de- 
serves to  be  loved  by  the  daughter  of  a 
king!" 

"  And  the  name  of  this  one  person  ?  " 

"Is  Thomas  Seymour — Lord  Siidley," 
whispered  Elizabeth,  while  she  sud- 
denly turned  round  and  entered  the 
palace. 

"What!  Thomas  Seym  our?"  exclaim- 
ed John  Heywood,  with  amazement. 
As  if  paralysed  by  terror,  he  continued 
standing  and  motionless,  and  looked  up 
at  the  sky,  repeating  again  and  again : 
"  Thomas  Seymour ! — Thomas  Seymour ! 
Why  he  is  a  kind  of  enchanter,  who 
pours  his  love-potions  into  the  hearts  of 
all  the  sex,  and  befools  them  with  that 
bold,  handsome  countenance  of  his. 
Thomas  Seymour !  The  queen  loves 
him ;  the  princess  loves  him ;  and  then 
there  is  the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  who 
wants  to  become  his  wife  at  all  hazards  1 


114 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


This  much,  however,  is  certain,  that  he 
is  a  traitor  who  deceives  them  both,  be- 
cause he  makes  the  same  declarations  of 
love  to  each  alike.  And  then  there  is 
that  wicked  imp,  chance,  which  has 
compelled  me  to  become  the  confidant 
of  both  these  women.  But  I  shall  take 
good  care  not  to  execute  loth  the  com- 
missions which  I  have  for  this  enchanter. 
Let  him,  if  he  pleases,  become  the  hus- 
band of  the  princess.  Perhaps  this  may 
be  the  surest  means  of  weaning  the 
queen  from  her  unfortunate  attach- 
ment." 

He  ceased,  and  for  a  moment  seemed 
lost  in  deep  thought.  "  Yes,  it  shall  be 
so,"  he  exclaimed  at  length.  "I'll  sub- 
due the  one  love  by  means  of  the  other. 
For  the  queen  it  would  be  dangerous  to 
love  him.  I  shall  therefore  bring  the 
affair  to  such  a  pass  that  she  must  hate 
him.  I  shall  still  continue  to  be  her 
confidant.  I  shall  receive  her  letters 
and  her  commissions,  only  that  I  shall 
burn  the  letters  and  not  execute  the 
commissions.  I  dare  not  tell  her  that 
the  faithless  Thomas  Seymour  has  be- 
trayed her,  for  I  have  pledged  my 
solemn  word  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth 
to  let  no  one  suspect  her  secret,  and  I 
must  and  shall  keep  my  word.  Smile 
and  love  on  then — dream  the  sweet 
dreams  of  thy  love,  O,  queen;  I  am 
keeping  watch  for  thee,  and  I  shall 
cause  this  dark  cloud  to  pass  away  from 
thee.  It  may  perhaps  touch  thy  heart, 
hut  at  least  it  shall  not  crush  thy  noble 
and  beautiful  head,  which — " 

"  Well,  and  what  are  you  staring  up 
at  the  sky  for  now,  as  if  you  were  read- 


ing some  new  epigram  there  with  which 
you  want  to  make  the  king  laugh  and 
the  priests  angry?"  inquired  a  voice 
beside  him,  and  a  hand  was  laid  heavily 
on  his  shoulder. 

John  Heywood  did  not  trouble  him- 
self to  look  round ;  he  continued  stand- 
ing in  his  place,  and  stared  on  at  the  sky 
without  changing  or  moving.  He  had 
easily  recognized  the  voice  of  the  person 
who  addressed  him ;  he  knew  quite 
well  that  the  individual  beside  him  was 
none  other  than  the  fool-hardy  enchant- 
er,, whom  he  had  just  been  execrating 
from  the  bottom  of  his  heart — none 
other  that  Thomas  Seymour,  Earl  of 
Sudley. 

u  Say,  John,  is  it  really  an  epigram  ? " 
asked  Thomas  Seymour,  once  more. 
"  An  epigram  upon  the  knavish,  greedy, 
and  hypocritical  rabble  of  priests,  who 
with  blasphemous  flattery  fawn  round 
the  king,  and  are  always  on  the  alert  to 
see  how  they  can  lay  a  trap  for  one  of 
us  brave  and  honorable  men  ?  Is  that 
what  the  sky  has  just  been  revealing  to 
you?" 

"  No,  my  lord ;  I  am  only  looking 
after  a  hawk,  which  I  see  yonder  in  the 
clouds.  I  saw  him  fly  up  there;  and 
only  imagine,  he  had  in  each  of  his 
claws  a  dove.  Two  doves  for  one  hawk. 
Now  is  not  that  too  much,  and  alto- 
gether opposed  to  nature  and  justice  ? " 

The  earl  regarded  him  with  a  pene- 
trating and  distrustful  glance.  But  John 
Heywood  remained  perfectly  calm  and 
composed,  and  still  continued  gazing  at 
the  clouds. 

"  What  a  stupid  creature  that  is,"  he 


THE   CONFIDANT. 


continued,  "  not  to  perceive  how  injuri- 
ous his  avarice  is  to  himself.  For  as  he 
holds  a  dove  in  each  of  his  claws,  he 
will  not  be  able  to  taste  either  of  them, 
— for  he  will  have  no  talons  left  free  to 
tear  his  prey  with.  As  soon  as  he  at- 
tempts to  devour  the  one,  the  other  will 
slip  away  from  him,  and  when  he  tries 
to  catch  the  latter,  the  other  will  fly 
away, — and  so  at  last  he  will  have  noth- 
ing because  he  was  too  greedy,  and 
wished  to  have  more  than  he  could 
make  use  of." 

"  And  are  you  really  looking  np  into 
the  clouds  after  this  hawk  ?  But  per- 
haps you  deceive  yourself,  and  that  what 
you  are  seeking  is  not  up  there,  but 
down  here,  and  perhaps  even  not  very 
far  away?"  asked  Thomas  Seymour  sig- 
nificantly. 

John  Heywood  however  would  not 
understand  him. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  replied,  "it  is  still  fly- 
ing, but  it  won't  continue  to  do  so  much 
longer.  For  I  have  already  seen  the 
owner  of  the  dove-cot,  from  which  the 
hawk  stole  the  two  doves.  He  carried 
a  fowling-piece  in  his  hand,  and  you 
may  be  quite  sure  he  will  kill  the  hawk 
for  having  robbed  him  of  both  his 
pets." 

"  Enough,  enough !  "  exclaimed  the 
earl,  impatiently.  "You  wish  to  give 
me  a  lesson,  but  you  must  know  that  I 
accept  no  counsel  from  a  fool — even 
though  he  were  the  wisest  of  fools." 

"  In  that  you  are  right,  my  lord,  for  it 
is  only  fools  who  are  so  foolish  as  to 
listen  to  the  voice  of  wisdom.  Besides, 
every  one  must  be  the  hammerman  of 


his  own  fortune,  an  'MOW,  my  wise 
mastejr,  I  will  give  you  a  key  which  you 
have  forged  for  yourself,  and  behind 
which  your  future  stands.  There,  take 
this  key,  and  if  you  will  creep  along 
stealthily  through  the  garden  to  yonder 
tower,  to-night,  about  twelve  o'clock, 
this  key  will  open  the  door  for  you,  and 
then  you  can  fly  up  the  winding  stairs 
without  hesitation,  and  open  the  door 
opposite  the  landing.  Behind  that  you 
will  find  the  fortune  which  you  have 
forged  for  yourself,  Master  Blacksmith, 
and  which  will  bid  you  welcome  with 
ardent  lips  and  fair  arms.  And  so  com- 
mending you  to  God,  my  lord,  I  must 
now  make  haste  and  get  home,  in  order 
to  think  over  the  comedy  which  the 
king  has  commanded  me  to  write." 

"  But  you  do  not  even  tell  me  from 
whom  this  message  comes?"  said  Lord 
Dudley,  holding  him  back.  "  You  invite 
me  to  a  rendezvous,  and  you  give  me  a 
key,  but  I  don't  yet  know  who  is  ex- 
pecting me  in  that  tower." 

"Oh!  You  don't  know  who  it  is? 
Then  there  is  more  than  one  who 
might  be  awaiting  yon  there?  "Well 
then,  it  is  the  youngest  and  smallest 
of  the  two  doves  who  sends  you  the 
key." 

"  The  Princess  Elizabeth  ?  " 

"You  have  named  her — not  I,"  re- 
plied John  Heywood,  as  he  disengaged 
himself  from  the  hand  of  the  earl,  and 
hastened  across  the  court-yard  in  order 
to  betake  himself  to  his  dwelling. 

"Then  the  princess  is  waiting  for 
me?"  he  whispered  softly.  "Ah,  who 
can  read  in  the  stars,  or  who  can  tell 


116 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


whither  the  crown  will  roll  away,  when 
it  falls  from  the  head  of  King  Henr<y  ?  I 
love  Katharine ;  but  I  love  ambition  still 
more,  and  if  ambition  demand  it, — why 
I  must  needs  make  a  sacrifice  of  my 
heart ! " 


CHAPTER    IV. 

GAMMER   GUKTON'S  NEEDLE. 

SLOWLY,  and  plunged  in  gloomy 
thought,  John  Heywood  reached  his 
dwelling.  This  dwelling  lay  in  the 
second,  that  is  to  say,  the  inner  court 
of  Whitehall  Palace,  in  that  wing  of 
the  building  which  contained  all  the 
residences  of  the  superior  servants  of 
the  royal  household,  and  of  course,  that 
of  the  royal  fool  also ;  for  at  that  time 
the  king's  fool  was  a  very  important 
personage,  who  occupied  in  a  manner 
the  rank  of  a  royal  chamberlain. 

John  Heywood  was  crossing  this 
second  court-yard,  when  suddenly  the 
noise  of  loud  voices  scolding  and 
jangling,  and  the  sharp  and  peculiar 
sound  of  a  box  on  the  ear  aroused  him 
from  his  reverie. 

He  stood  still  and  listened. 

His  countenance,  previously  so  grave, 
now  once  more  resumed  its  accustomed 
lively  and  sly  expression — his  large  eyes 
were  once  more  lighted  up  with  humor, 
and  with  a  species  of  malicious  pleas- 
ure. 

"  Ah,  this  is  my  sweet  and  amiable 
housekeeper,  Gammer  Gurton,  again," 


murmured  John  Heywood,  laughing, 
"  and  she  is  once  more  quarrelling  with 
that  poor,  long-legged,  blear-eyed,  but 
excellent  creature,  my  servant,  Hodge. 
Why,  it  was  only  yesterday  that  I  sur- 
prised her  bestowing  a  kiss  upon  him, 
at  which  the  fellow  made  such  a  rue- 
ful countenance,  that  he  looked  as  if  a 
bee  had  stung  him.  To-day,  however, 
she  boxes  his  ears.  Perhaps  this 
makes  him  laugh,  and  he  thinks  it  is  a 
rose  leaf  to  cool  his  cheeks.  He  is  a 
singular  being — this  same  Hodge.  But 
we  must  just  see  what  this  farce  is  that 
they  are  playing  to-day." 

He  glided  softly  up  the  steps  and 
opened  the  door  of  his  apartments,  and 
then  closed  it  noiselessly  behind  him  aa 
he  entered. 

Mistress  Gammer  Gurton,  who  was 
in  the  adjoining  room,  had  neither 
heard  nor  seen  any  thing,  and  even  had 
the  sky  fallen  at  this  moment,  she  would 
scarcely  have  observed  it;  for  she  had 
eyes  and  ears  for  nothing  else  but  for 
this  lank,  raw-boned  fellow,  who  stood 
opposite  her,  trembling  with  pain,  and 
who  stared  at  her  out  of  a  pair  of  wa- 
tery blue  eyes.  Her  whole  soul  was  cen- 
tred in  her  tongue,  and  this  tongue 
moved  as  fast  as  the  clapper  of  a  mill, 
and  rattled  and  rolled  like  thunder. 

How  then  could  Mistress  Gammer 
Gurton  have  had  ears  or  time  to  hear 
her  master,  who  had  crept  gently  into 
his  room,  and  had  gently  glided  along  to 
the  door  which  stood  ajar,  and  which 
separated  his  chamber  from  that  of  his 
housekeeper. 

"What!     you    stupid    blockhead?" 


GAMMER  GURTON'S  NEEDLE. 


117 


cried  Mistress  Gammer  Gurton,  "you 
want  to  make  me  believe  it  was  the  cat 
that  took  my  needle  away.  As  if  my 
needle  were  a  mouse,  and  smelt  of  ba- 
con, you  silly,  blear-eyed  fool !  " 

"  Ah  you  call  me  a  fool,"  cried  Hodge, 
with  a  laugh,  which  produced  a  some- 
what irregular  slit  across  his  face  from 
ear  to  ear ;  "  you  call  me  a  fool,  which 
is  a  great  honor  for  me,  for  then  I  am 
the  worthy  servant  of  iny  master.  And 
as  to  the  blear-eyed  part  of  the  business, 
why  that  comes,  you  see,  of  having 
nothing  else  before  me  to  look  at  the 
whole  day  long,  but  yourself,  Gammer 
Gurton — yourself,  with  your  full-moon 
face— yourself  sailing  about  the  room 
like  a  great  frigate,  and  with  your  hands 
for  grappling  hooks,  smashing  every- 
thing that  comes  in  your  way — except 
your  own  looking-glass." 

"Now  you  shall  pay  ror  that,  you 
double-faced,  shabby  lout,"  cried  Mistress 
Gammer  Gurton,  rushing  at  Hodge,  with 
her  clenched  fist, 

.  But  the  sly  servant  of  John  Hey  wood 
saw  what  was  coming,  and  so  he  stooped 
down  and  took  refuge  under  the  large 
table  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  But  when  the  housekeeper 
rushed  forward  to  fetch  him  out  from 
his  stronghold,  he  pinched  her  leg  with 
such  hearty  good  will  that  she  started 
back  with  a  scream,  and,  smarting  with 
intense  pain,  sank  down  into  the  huge 
leather-covered  arm-chair  which  stood 
near  the  window  alongside  her  work 
table. 

"  Oh,  Hodge,  you  monster ! "  she 
groaned.  "You  horrid,  heartless  mon- 


ster. Yes,  and  it  was  you  that  stole  my 
needle  from  me,  and  nobody  else.  For 
you  knew  very  well  that  it  was  my  last, 
and  that  before  I  could  get  any  more  I 
must  go  a  long  way  to  the  shop  where 
they  are  sold.  And  that  is  just  what 
you  want,  you  weather-cock  knave. 
You  only  want  that  I  should  go  out,  in 
order  that  you  may  have  time  to  carry 
on  your  games  with  Tibby." 

"Tibby?  Why,  who  is  Tibby?" 
asked  Hodge,  poking  forward  his  long 
neck  from  under  the  table,  and  staring 
at  Mistress  Gammer  Gurton  with  well- 
feigned  astonishment. 

"  Just'  fancy  this  daddy-long-legs  ask- 
ing me  who  Tibby  is !  "  cried  the  exas- 
perated lady.  "  Then  I'll  tell  you  who 
she  is.  Tibby  is  the  steward's  cook  over 
the  way.  She  is  a  dark-eyed,  deceitful, 
coquettish  little  minx,  who  is  mean  and 
wicked  enough  to  try  to  steal  away  a  lover 
from  a  respectable  and  virtuous  woman 
like  me ; — a  lover,  God  wot,  who  is  such 
a  pitiful  little  sneak,  that  one  would 
suppose  nobody  else  but  myself  could 
ever  see  him  if  they  looked  for  him; 
and,  indeed,  I  could  never  have  done  so, 
if  my  eyes  hadn't  been  used  to  search- 
ing for  things  for  the  last  forty  years, 
and  that,  all  that  time,  I've  been  looking 
for  a  man  who  would  know  my  value, 
and  lead  me  to  the  altar.  And  then  at 
last  my  eyes  rested  upon  this  ghost  of  a 
man,  and  as  nothing  else  turned  up,  I 
must  needs  drop  upon  you,  you  poor 
cobweb! " 

"What,  you  call  me  a  cobweb?" 
cried  Hodge,  creeping  out  from  under 
the  table,  and  with  a  threatening  look, 


118 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


stretching  himself  at  full  length  before 
Gammer  Gurton's  chair.  "You  call 
me  a  cobweb  ?  Well,  then,  I  vow  and 
declare  that  you  shall  never  be  the 
spider  that  lives  in  this  cobweb.  For 
you  are  a  garden-spider,  a  great,  horrid, 
old  garden-spider,  for  which  such  a  cob- 
web as  Hodge  is  much  too  fine  and  too 
delicate.  Be  quiet,  therefore,  Mistress 
Spider,  and  choose  some  clumsy  cobweb 
to  suit  you  elsewhere.  Yon  shan't  live 
in  my  web,  that's  only  for  Tib.  Tor  I 
know  Tib  very  well.  She  is  a  nice  live- 
ly girl,  and  only  sixteen ;  she  is  as  nim- 
ble and  as  quick  on  her  legs  as  a  kid. 
with  lips  like  the  corals  which  you  wear 
round  your  fat,  puffy  neck,  with  eyes 
that  shine  much  brighter  than  your 
nose,  and  with  a  figure  so  slender  and 
elegant  that  one  could  cut  it  out  of  one 
of  your  fingers.  Oh,  yes,  I  know  Tib 
very  well ;  she  is  a  dear  good  girl,  who 
would  never  be  so  hard-hearted  as  to  abuse 
the  man  she  loves,  and  call  him  all  man- 
ner of  names,  and  who  would  never  be 
so  mean  or  so  low  in  herself,  as  to  want 
to  marry  the  man  she  doesn't  love, 
merely  because  he  is  a  man.  Yes,  I 
know  Tib,  and  I'll  just  go  across  to  her 
presently,  and  ask  her  if  she  will  marry 
a  good  honest  fellow,  who  is  certainly 
rather  lean,  but  who  will  doubtless  get 
fatter  when  he  has  better  keep  than  the 
horrid,  hungry  stuff  that  Mistress  Gam- 
mer Gurton  gives  him ;  a  fellow  who, 
if  he  is  blear-eyed  just  now,  will  soon 
get  cured  of  that  complaint  when  he 
loses  sight  of  Gammer  Gurton,  who  has 
v,  the  effect  of  rotten  onions  upon  his  eyes, 
and  makes  them  look  red,  as  if  he  was 


a  crying  all  day.  Good-by,  old  rotten 
onions ;  I'm  off  to  Tib !  " 

But  Mistress  Gammer  Gurton  spun 
up  like  a  top  from  her  arm-chair,  and 
rushed  after  Hodge,  whom  she  held  by 
the  coat,  and  forced  to  remain. 

"  Only  dare  to  go  and  see  Tib— that's 
all!  Just  dare  to  cross  this  door,  and 
you'll  see  that  the  mild,  gentle,  and 
patient  Gammer  Gurton  will  be  changed 
into  a  tigress,  if  any  one  attempts  to 
deprive  her  of  her  holiest  and  most  pre- 
cious property — I  mean  her  husband. 
For  you  know  you  are  my  husband — in 
so  far  as  you  have  given  your  word  that 
you  will  marry  me." 

"  But  I  haven't  told  you  when  and 
where  I  mean  to  do  so,  Gammer  Gurton, 
and  so  you  may  wait  for  me  to  all  eter- 
nity, for  I  won't  marry  you  at  least  until 
we  meet  in  Heaven." 

"That's  a  horrid  and  a  wicked  lie, 
and  you  know  it  I  "  cried  Gammer  Gur- 
ton. u  It's  a  mean,  shocking  lie,  I  say ! 
For  didn't  you  come  begging  and  pray- 
ing to  me  day  after  day,  until  I  was 
obliged  to  promise  you  at  last,  that  I 
would  make  ray  will,  and  that,  I  would 
name  my  dear  husband  Hodge  in  it  to  be 
the  heir  of  all  my  goods  and  chattels,  and 
leave  him  every  thing  that  I  had  scraped 
together  during  my  virtuous  and  in- 
dustrious life  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  you  haven't  made  your 
will  yet ;  you  have  broken  your  word, 
and  so  you  cannot  expect  me  to  keep 
mine." 

"  But  I  have  though, — you  fickle  man. 
I  have  made  it,  and  this  very  day  I  in- 
tended to  go  with  you  to  the  lawyer's, 


GAMMER  GURTON'S  NEEDLE. 


119 


and  have  it  properly  signed  and  wit- 
nessed, and  then  to-morrow  we  should 
go  and  get  married.*' 

"  What,  you  have  actually  made  your 
will,  you  charming  little  hemisphere  ?  " 
said  Hodge,  affectionately,  while  he  at- 
tempted to  embrace  the  gigantic  form 
his  fiancee  with  his  long  bony  arms. 
"You  have  made  your  will,  and  ap- 
pointed me  as  your  heir  ?  Come  along 
then.  Gammer,  come  along  and  let  us  go 
to  the  lawyer's  office  at  once." 

"But  don't  you  see,"  replied  Gam- 
mer Gurton,  with  a  tender,  cat-like 
purr — "don't  you  see  that  you  are 
crushing  my  collar  in  the  way  you  hug 
me  so.  Let  me  go  therefore,  and  help 
me  at  once  to  find  the  needle,  for  with- 
out this  needle  we  can't  go  to  the  law- 
yer's." 

"  "What,  you  can't  go  to  the  lawyer's 
without  the  needle?" 

"  No,  for  only  look  at  this  great  hole 
which  the  cat  lately  tore  in  my  best  cap, 
just  as  I  had  taken  it  out  of  my  box  and 
laid  it  on  the  table.  Surely  I  can't  go 
to  the  lawyer's  with  such  a  hole  as  that 
in  my  cap !  Look  about  then,  Hodge, 
that  I  may  be  able  to  mend  my  cap  and 
go  with  you  to  the  lawyer's." 

"Oh,  lord,  where  is  the  unlucky  nee- 
dle !  I  must  have  it — I  must  find  it — 
so  that  Gammer  Gurton  may  be  able  to 
take  her  will  to  the  lawyer's  office." 

And  Hodge,  with  frantic  desperation, 
looked  about  on  the  floor  for  the  lost 
needle,  and  Gammer  Gurton  thrust  her 
large  spectacles  upon  her  red  shining  nose, 
and  looked  once  more  all  over  the  table. 
So  zealous  was  she  in  her  search,  that 


she  even  allowed  her  tongue  to  rest  for 
a  little,  and  a  deep  silence  reigned  in  the 
room. 

This  stillness  was  suddenly  inter- 
rupted by  a  voice  which  proceeded 
from  the  court-yard.  It  was  a  sweet 
and  a  delicate  voice  which  cried : 

"Hodge,  dear  little  Hodge,  are  you 
there  ?  Just  come  out  for  a  short  time. 
I  want  to  laugh,  and  I'm  just  in  the 
humor  to  have  some  fun." 

It  seemed  as  if  an  electric  shock  had 
been  suddenly  produced  by  this  voice, 
and  had  seized  both  Gammer  Gurton 
and  Hodge,  at  the  same  time. 

They  both  shuddered,  and  stood  still 
and  immoveable,  as  if  petrified;  Hodge 
especially — poor  Hodge — looked  as  if  he 
had  been  struck  by  lightning.  His  great 
watery,  blue  eyes  seemed  as  if  they 
would  start  from  their  sockets ;  his  long 
arms  hung  down  dangling  and  wabbling 
at  his  sides  like  a  flail ;  his  knees  totter- 
ed, and  seemed  as  if  they  would  give 
way  under  him,  in  expectation  of  the 
coming  storm.  This  storm  in  fact  burst 
forth  without  much  delay. 

"That's  Tib!  "  cried  mistress  Gammer 
Gurton,  rushing  upon  Hodge  like  a 
lioness,  and  grasping  him  round  the 
shoulders  with  her  arms.  "  That's  Tib, 
you  poor  half-starved  greyhound !  Now, 
wasn't  I  right  when  I  called  you  a  faith- 
less, good-for-nothing  lout,  who  doesn't 
even  spare  innocence,  and  breaks  the 
hearts  of  women  like  biscuits,  which  he 
swallows  for  his  pleasure.  Wasn't  I 
right  in  saying  that  you  were  only 
watching  for  me  to  go  out,  that  you 
might  go  across  and  flirt  with  Tib  ? " 


120 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


44  Hodge,  my  dear,  dear  little  Hodge," 
cried  a  voice  below,  and  this  time  louder 
and  more  affectionately.  "  Now,  Hodge, 
ain't  you  coming  down  to  me  to-day,  as 
you  promised? — come  and  fetch  the 
kiss  you  were  begging  so  hard  for  this 
morning." 

"  Why,  whatever  is  the  girl  thinking 
of!  May  I  be  hanged  if  I  ever  begged  a 
kiss  of  her, — I  don't  understand  a  single 
word  she  says,"  cried  Hodge,  quite  con- 
fused and  trembling. 

"  Ah,  don't  you  though,  understand  a 
word  of  what  she  says? "  screamed  Gam- 
mer Gurton.  "  Well  then,  I  do.  I  under- 
stand that  everything  is  now  all  over  be- 
tween you  and  me.  I  am  quit  of  you — 
you  Moloch  you!  I  understand  that  I'm 
not  going  to  the  lawyer's  to  sign  my  will, 
in  order  to  marry  you  and  worry  myself 
to  death  with  a  husband  all  skin  and  bone 
— to  make  you  my  heir  and  let  you  laugh 
at  me.  No,  no  ;  it's  all  over  now  I  I 
shan't  go  to  the  lawyer's — I  shall  tear 
up  my  will !  " 

"  Oh  dear ;  she  is  going  to  tear  up  her 
will!"  yelled  Hodge.  "And  now  I 
have  had  all  this  worry  and  trouble  for 
nothing.  I  have  put  up  with  the  awful 
misery  of  being  made  love  to  by  this 
horrid  old  screech-owl.  Oh  dear,  she 
won't  make  any  will,  and  Hodge  will 
still  be  the  same  poor  fellow  he  always 
was." 

Gammer  Gurton  laughed  scorn- 
fully. 

"  Ah,   now  you  see  at  last  what  a 

miserable  creature  you  are,  and  how  a 

v.       line,   handsome   woman,   like  me,   lets 

herself  down  when  she  stoops  to  pick 


up  a  weed,  like  you,  and  choose  it  for  a 
husband!" 

"  Yes,  yes ;  I  see  it  all !  "  said  Hodge, 
snivelling.  "And  I  only  beg  you  to 
pick  me  up  and  take  me,  and  above  all 
to  make  your  will !  " 

44  No,  I  won't  take  you,  and  I  won't 
make  my  will.  I  tell  you  it's  all  over 
now,  and  you  can  now  get  along  and  go 
to  Tib,  who  has  been  calling  you  so  af- 
fectionately. But  first  give  me  back 
my  needle,  you  magpie,  you.  Give  here 
my  needle  that  you  stole  from  me ;  it  is 
no  more  use  to  you  now,  for  there  is  no 
need  for  me  to  go  out  in  order  that  you 
may  be  able  to  go  and  see  Tib.  We 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  each 
other,  and  so  you  can  go  away  wherever 
you  like.  My  needle — I  say — my  nee- 
dle— or  I'll  hang  you  as  a  scarecrow  in 
some  cornfield,  to  frighten  away  the 
sparrows.  My  needle,  or — " 

She  raised  her  clenched  fist  threatening- 
ly at  him,  convinced  that  Hodge  this  time, 
as  always,  would  take  refuge  under  the 
bed  or  under  the  table  from  this  formi- 
dable weapon  of  his  jealous  and  sensitive 
inamorata. 

But  for  once  she  had  made  a  mistake. 
Hodge,  who  saw  that  all  was  lost,  felt 
his  patience  at  length  exhausted,  and  his 
fear  was  now  changed  into  the  most 
desperate  rage.  The  lamb  was  changed 
into  a  tiger,  and  with  the  rage  of  a  tiger 
he  flew  at  Gammer  Gurton,  flung  her 
fist  aside,  and  fetched  her  a  sharp  blow 
on  the  cheek. 

The  signal  was  given  and  the  battle 
began,  and  was  waged  with  equal 
strength  and  equal  animosity  on  both 


GAMMER    GFKTON'S  NEEDLE. 


P.  121. 


GAMMER  GURTON'S  NEEDLE. 


121 


sides,  only  that  Hodge's  bony  knuckles 
went  home  much  more  severely  upon 
the  mass  of  flesh  with  which  Gammer 
Gurton  was  encumbered,  and  that  he 
was  much  more  sure  of  hitting  this  huge 
bulk ;  while  Gammer  Gurton's  soft  hand 
could  rarely  catch  this  lanky  figure 
whose  owner  adroitly  parried  her  blows. 

"Hold!  you  blockhead,"  cried  a 
stentorian  voice,  suddenly — "  don't  you 
see,  fellow,  that  your  master  is  present  ? 
Keep  quiet  there,  ye  imps  of  Satan,  and 
don't  strike,  but  love  each  other." 

"  It's  the  master !  "  cried  Gammer 
Gurton,  dropping  her  hands  cautiously 
by  her  side. 

"  Oh,  pray,  master,  don't  turn  me 
away?"  whimpered  Hodge;  "don't 
turn  me  away  for  having  at  last  beaten 
the  old  hag  black  and  blue.  She  has 
deserved  it  this  ever  so  long,  and  an  an- 
gel himself  must  lose  patience  with  her 
at  last." 

"  I  turn  you  away  ?  "  cried  John  Hey- 
wood,  as  he  dried  his  eyes,  which  were 
oist  with  laughter.  "No,  Hodge;  you 
a  real  jewel — a  very  mine  of  drol- 
ery  and  fun,  and  you  have  both  of  you, 
without  knowing  it,  given  me  the  most 
valuable  materials  for  a  farce,  which  at 
the  king's  command  I  must  write  within 
six  days.  I  owe  both  of  you  my  thanks, 
and  these  thanks  I  will  discharge  forth- 
with. Listen  to  me,  therefore,  rny  pair 
of  enamoured  and  affectionate  turtle 
doves,  and  mark  what  I  have  to  say  to 
you.  One  cannot  always  know  the  wolf 
by  his  skin,  for  he  sometimes  appears  in 
sheep's  clothing,  and  in  the  same  way 
one  cannot  always  tell  a  man  by  his 


: 

len 


voice,  for  he  borrows  it  for  himself 
sometimes  from  his  neighbor.  For  ex- 
ample, I  know  a  certain  gentleman 
called  John  Heywood,  who  can  imitate 
quite  correctly  the  voice  of  a  certain  lit- 
tle Tib,  and  can  pipe  his  voice  quite  as 
sweetly  ag  she  does,  and  say, — '  Hodge, 
my  dear  little  Hodge !  '  " 

And  he  repeated  to  them  accurately, 
and  with  the  same  tone  and  expression, 
the  words  which  the  voice  had  previous- 
ly uttered. 

"Ah,  then  it  was  you,  sir?"  cried 
Hodge,  with  a  grin.  "The  same  Tib 
across  the  court  yonder — the  Tib  about 
which  we've  been  pummeling  one 
another  ? " 

"Yes,  Hodge,  I  was  that  self-same 
Tib,  and  I  was  close  at  hand  during  the 
whole  of  your  quarrel  together,  and  I 
found  it  immensely  amusing  to  throw  in 
Tib's  voice,  like  a  shot  from  a  cannon, 
in  the  midst  of  your  lovers'  quarrel. 
Ah,  Hodge,  that  was  a  capital  bomb- 
shell— was  it  not?  And  when 'I  said, 
*  my  dear  little  Hodge,'  your  head  fell 
like  an  ear  of  corn  that  has  been  blown 
upon  by  a  muck-worm.  No,  no,  my  wor- 
thy and  virtuous  mistress  Gammer  Gur- 
ton, it  was  not  Tib  that  was  calling  your 
handsome  Hodge — on  the  contrary  I 
saw  Tib  going  out  the  court-yard  gate 
before  your  quarrel  began." 

"It  was  not  Tib,"  cried  Gammer  Gur- 
ton, with  a  gust  of  tenderness.  "It 
was  not  Tib,  and  she  is  not  even  in  the 
court  at  all,  and  therefore  Hodge  could 
not  have  gone  across  to  her  while  I  was 
going  to  the  shop  for  needles.  Oh, 
Hodge,  Hodge,  will  you  forgive  me  for 


122 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


all  this;  will  you  excuse  all  the  hard 
words  that  I  spoke  in  the  height  of  my 
temper  and  suffering ;  and  will  you  try 
to  love  me  again  ? " 

"  Well,  I'll  try,"  replied  Hodge,  some- 
what gravely,  "  and  I  don't  doubt  but  I 
shall  succeed,  provided  beforehand  that 
you  go  to  the  lawyer's  this  very  day  and 
make  your  will." 

"Yes.  I'll  make  my  will,  and  to- 
morrow we'll  get  married,  won't  we, 
my  love  ? " 

"  Yes,  we'll  get  married  to-morrow," 
growled  Hodge,  scratching  his  head, 
with  a  dismal  grimace. 

"  And  now,  my  pet,  come  and  give  me 
a  kiss  to  show  that  we  have  made  it  up." 

She  held  out  her  arms,  and  as  Hodge 
did  not  come  to  her,  but  remained  stiff 
and  motionless  in  his  place,  she  went  to 
Hodge  and  folded  him  affectionately  to 
her  heart. 

Suddenly  she  gave  a  loud  scream,  and 
released  Hodge  from  her  embrace. 
She  felt  a  terrible  pain  in  her  bosom, 
just  as  if  a  little  dagger  had  penetrated 
her  breast. 

And  there  it  was — the  lost  needle. 
And  Hodge  was  therefore  as  innocent 
and  as  pure  as  the  new-born  day. 

He  had  not  wantonly  purloined  the 
needle,  in  order  that  Mistress  Gammer 
Gurton  should  be  obliged  to  leave  the 
house  and  go  to  the  shop  to  get  some 
new  needles ;  he  had  not  intended  to  go 
to  Tib,  for  Tib  was  not  at  home,  but 
was  gone  out. 

"  Oh,  Hodge,  Hodge,  —  you  good 
V  Hodge!  you  innocent  dove,  will  you 
forgive  me?" 


"  Come  to  the  lawyer's,  Gammer  Gur- 
ton, and  I']]  forgive  you." 

They  rushed  affectionately  into  each 
other's  arms,  quite  forgetting  their 
master,  who  was  standing  beside  them 
all  the  while,  and  who  looked  on,  laugh- 
ing and  nodding  approval. 

"  Thus  then  I  have  found  the  finest 
and  richest  materials  for  my  comedy," 
said  John  Heywood,  leaving  the  amor- 
ous couple,  and  retiring  to  his  chamber. 
"Gammer  Gurton  has  saved  me,  and 
King  Henry  will  not  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  me  scourged  by  the  highly  vir- 
tuous and  highly  erotic  ladies  of  his 
court.  To  work,  then.  To  work  at 
once ! " 

He  sat  down  to  his  desk,  and  seized 
pen  and  paper. 

"But how  ?  "  he  asked,  suddenly  hes- 
itating. "  These  are  certainly  valuable 
materials  for  a  piece,  but  yet  I  shall  never 
be  able  to  convert  them  into  an  interlude. 
What  then  shall  I  do?  Throw  the  mat- 
ter overboard  altogether,  and  once  more 
rally  the  monks  and  turn  the  nuns  into 
ridicule  ?  That's  old  and  used  up  long 
ago !  I'll  write  something  new — some- 
thing quite  new,  and  something  that 
shall  make  the  king  so  full  of  good  hu- 
mor, that  for  a  whole  day  he  won't  sign 
a  death-warrant.  Yes,  yes ;  it  shall  be 
a  right  merry  play,  and  therefore  I 
shall  call  it  boldly  and  resolutely  a 
pleasure  play — or,  in  other  words,  a 
comedy." 

And  he  seized  his  pen  and  wrote, 
"  GAMMEE  GTJETON'S  NEEDLE  :  A  EIGHT 
PEETTT,  PLEASANT,  AND  MEEEY  COMEDY." 

And  thus  originated  the  first  English 


LADY   JANE. 


123 


comedy  through  John  Heywood— King 
Henry's  fool. 


CHAPTER  V. 

LADY     JANE. 

ALL  slept  in  the  Palace  of  Whitehall. 
Even  the  king's  servants,  who  kept 
watch  in  the  ante-room  of  the  king's 
bedchamber  had  already  betaken  them- 
selves to  slumber,  for  the  king  had  been 
snoring  for  several  hours,  and  the  royal 
noise  was  the  joyful  signal  to  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  palace  that  they  were 
relieved  from  their  attendance  .for  a 
happy  night,  and  could  once  more  be 
free  men. 

Even  the  queen  had  already  long 
since  retired  to  her  apartments,  and  had 
dismissed  her  ladies  at  an  unusually 
early  hour.  She  said  she  felt  herself  fa- 
tigued from  the  chase,  and  required  rest. 
No  one  must  therefore  attempt  to  dis- 
turb her  unless  by  the  king's  command. 

But  the  king,  as  before  stated,  slept, 
and  the  queen  had  therefore  no  cause  to 
apprehend  that  her  nightly  slumbers 
would  be  disturbed. 

Deep  silence  reigned  in  the  palace. 
The  corridors  were  empty  and  deserted ; 
the  apartments  mute  and  forsaken. 

Suddenly  a  figure  tottered  along 
softly  and  cautiously  through  the  long, 
feebly-lighted  corridor.  She  was  wrapt 
in  a  dark  mantle,  and  a  thick  veil  con- 
cealed her  features. 

"With  her  feet  scarcely  touching  the 


ground,  she  flitted  along,  and  descended 
a  short  flight  of  steps.  Now  she  stops 
and  listens.  Nothing  is  to  be  heard. 
All  is  noiseless  and  silent. 

Still  onward.  Now  she  quickens 
her  step.  For  here  she  is  sure  of  not 
being  heard.  This  is  the  uninhabited 
wing  of  the  Palace  of  Whitehall.  Here 
no  one  can  listen  to  her  footsteps. 

Onward,  therefore — still  onward — 
along  that  corridor,  and  up  that  flight 
of  steps.  And  now  she  stops  before 
the  door  which  leads  into  the  garden 
saloon.  She  applies  her  ear  to  the 
key-hole  and  listens.  Then  she  claps 
her  hands  three  times. 

The  sound  finds  an  echo  behind  the 
door. 

Oh,  he  is  there — he  is  there !  For- 
gotten are  now  all  cares,  all  pains,  all 
tears.  He  is  there!  She  has  him 
again ! 

She  bursts  the  door  open.  The 
chamber  indeed  is  dark,  but  yet  she 
sees  him,  for  the  eye  of  love  illumines 
the  night,  and  if  she  does  not  see  him,  at 
least  she  feels  his  presence. 

She  rests  upon  his  heart.  He  presses 
her  closely  to  his  breast.  Leaning  upon 
each  other,  they  grope  their  way  cau- 
tiously through  the  dark  spacious  saloon 
until  they  reach  the  ottoman  yonder, 
and  both,  in  rapturous  embrace,  sink 
down  upon  the  luxurious  cushions. 

"  At  length  I  have  thee  once  more ! 
And  my  arms  once  more  enfold  this  di- 
vine form,  and  again  my  lips  press  this 
rosy  mouth !  Oh,  my  beloved,  what  an 
eternity  has  been  this  separation  from 
thee!  Six  whole  days!  Six  long 


124 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


nights  of  torment !  Hast  thou  not  felt 
how  my  soul  craved  and  yearned  for 
thee  ?  How  I  stretched  forth  my 
arms  in  the  night  time,  and  how  I 
again  withdrew  them  comfortless  and 
chilled  with  pain,  hecause  I  held  noth- 
ing— nothing  but  the  cold,  cheerless 
night  air.  Didst  thou  not  hear,  be- 
loved one,  how  I  called  thee  with  my 
sighs,  my  tears  ?  how  in  glowing  verses 
I  poured  out  to  thee  my  ardent  long- 
ings, my  love,  my  rapture?  And  yet, 
cruel  one !  thou  didst  remain  the  while 
unmoved  and  smiling.  Thine  eyes 
were  lighted  up  with  the  pride,  the  maj- 
esty of  a  Juno ;  the  roses  on  thy  cheeks 
are  not  faded  by  a  single  breath.  No, 
no !  thou  didst  not  yearn  for  me  as  I  did 
for  thee ;  thy  heart  has  not  felt  that 
painful,  that  blissful  torment ;  thou  art 
above  all  things,  and  first  of  all  the 
proud,  the  cold  queen,  and  then, — and 
then  the  loving  Katharine  1  " 

"How  unjust,  and  how  severe  thou 
art,  my  Henry  !  "  she  whispered  softly. 
"Ah,  I  have  indeed  suffered,  and  per- 
haps my  agonies  have  been  more  terri- 
ble and  more  bitter  than  thine  own,  for 
I  was  obliged  to  swallow  my  torments 
inwardly.  Thou  wast  at  liberty  to  give 
them  vent ;  thou  mightst  stretch  forth 
thine  arms  toward  me ;  thou  couldst  cry 
out,  couldst  sigh  in  secret.  Thou  wast 
not  like  me — condemned  to  jest  and 
smile,  and,  with  an  apparently  attentive 
ear,  to  listen  to  all  the  oft-repeated, 
ever-renewed  phrases  of  worship  and 
adulation  of  those  flatterers  who  sur- 
round me.  Thou  wast  at  least  free  to 
suffer !  I  was  not !  It  is  true  I  have 


smiled,  but  only  with  the  pangs  of 
death, — it  is  true  my  cheeks  have  not 
grown  pale,  but  the  tints  of  art  were 
the  veil  which  I  used  to  hide  the  pallor 
of  nature.  And  then,  Henry,  in  the 
midst  of  my  pains  and  my  yearning,  I 
had  also  a  secret  consolation, — thy  let- 
ters, thy  sonnets,  which  were  as  the 
dews  of  heaven  to  my  ailing  spirit,  and 
restored  it  once  more  to  new  torments 
— new  hopes !  Oh  !  how  I  love  those 
rapture-breathing  melodies  —  in  what 
noble  and  entrancing  words  they  re- 
echo the  story  of  our  love  and  of  our 
sufferings !  •  How  nay  whole  soul  flies 
forward  to  meet  them,  and  how  a  thou- 
sand times  I  press  my  lips  to  the  paper 
from  which  thy  breath — thy  sighs  seem 
to  emanate !  How  I  love  the  kind, 
faithful  Jane — the  messenger  of  our 
love.  "When  I  see  her  enter  my  cham- 
ber with  thy  letter  in  her  hand,  she 
then  seems  to  me  like  a  dove  bearing 
the  olive  branch  which  brings  with  it 
peace  and  happiness ;  and  I  rush  toward 
her,  and  press  her  to  my  bosom,  and 
give  her  the  kisses  which  I  fain  would 
bestow  on  thee ;  and  I  feel  how  poor 
and  helpless  I  am,  in  not  being  able  to 
repay  her  for  the  happiness  which  she 
brings  me.  Ah,  Henry,  how  much  we 
are  indebted  to  our  poor  Jane !  " 

"  Why  dost  thou  call  her  poor,  when 
she  is  ever  beside  thee — can  always  see 
thee — always  hear  thee  ?  " 

"I  call  her  poor,  because  she  is  not 
happy!  For  she  loves,  Henry;  she 
loves  to  desperation — to  madness,  and 
she  is  not  loved  in  return.  She  is  wast- 
ing away  with  sorrow  and  pain,  and 


LADY  JANE. 


125 


wrings  her  hands  in  agony  with  im- 
measurable woe.  Hast  thou  not  per- 
ceived how  pale  she  is,  and  how  her 
eyes  are  daily  growing  more  dim  ?  " 

"No,  I  have  not  perceived  it,  for  I  see 
nothing  hut  thee,  and  Lady  Jane  is  for 
me  a  mere  inanimate  picture,  like  all 
other  women.  But  how  now?  Thou 
tremhlest  and  thy  form  quivers,  as  if 
convulsed  in  my  arms.  What !  Thou 
weepest?  " 

"  Oh,  I  weep  because  I  am  so  happy. 
I  weep  because  I  thought  how  terrible 
must  be  the  suffering  to  give  one's 
heart  wholly  away,  and  to  receive  noth- 
ing in  return — nothing  but  death  !  Poor 
Jane!" 

"  Oh,  what  have  we  to  do  with  Jane  I 
We  love  each  other — that's  enough. 
Come,  beloved,  let  me  kiss  away  the 
tears  from  thy  cheeks,  let  me  drink  this 
nectar,  that  I  may  become  inspired  and 
glorified  as  a  deity!  Weep  no  more 
then — no,  weep  not,  or,  if  thou  wilt,  let 
it  be  in  the  excess  of  rapture,  and  be- 
cause words  and  the  human  breast  are 
too  feeble  to  express  or  contain  the  meas- 
ure of  our  bliss." 

"  Yes,  yes,  let  us  exult  in  our  happi- 
ness, let  us  fade  away  in  its  delights !  " 
she  exclaimed  passionately,  while  she 
flung  herself  with  frantic  violence  on  his 
breast. 

They  were  both  silent,  and  their 
hearts  throbbed  together  in  unison. 

Oh,  how  sweet  is  this  silence,  how 
rapturous  this  mute,  blissful  night.  How 
the  trees  outside  murmur  and  rustle,  as 
if  they  sang  for  the  lovers  a  heavenly 
song  of  slumber ;  how  curiously  the  pale 


sickle-moon  peers  through  the  windows, 
as  if  she  were  seeking  the  happy  pair 
whose  favored  confidante  she  is. 

But  happiness  is  swiftly  fled,  and 
time  flies  quickly  when  love  is  its  com- 
panion. 

Already  they  must  part,  already  take 
leave  of  each  other. 

u  Not  yet,  beloved !  Stay  yet  awhile ! 
Look,  it  is  still  dark  night — and  hark, 
there  the  palace  clock  strikes  two !  No, 
don't  go  yet  awhile." 

"I  must,  Henry,  I  must;  the  hours 
are  over  when  I  am  free  to  be  happy !  " 

"  Oh  thou  cold,  proud  soul !  Does  this 
head  already  long  again  for  its  crown, 
and  canst  thou  no  longer  tarry  for  the 
royal  purple  to  fall  upon  thy  shoulders  ? 
Come,  let  me  kiss  thy  shoulders,  and 
then  fancy,  sweet  one,  that  my  crimson 
lips  are  royal  purple." 

"And  a  purple  for  which  I  would 
gladly  give  my  crown,  and  even  my 
life!"  she  exclaimed  with  enthusiasm, 
while  she  folded  him  in  her  arms. 

"Dost  thou  then  love  me?  Lovest 
thou  me  really  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  love  thee." 

"  Canst  thou  swear  to  me  that  thou 
lovest  no  one  else — no  one  but  me? " 

"  Yes,  I  can  swear  it  to  thee,  as  truly 
as  there  is  a  heaven  above  us,  the  wit- 
ness of  my  vow !  " 

"  Then  be  thou  blest,  thou  lovely — 
thou  only — oh,  how  shall  I  name  thee, 
whose  name  I  dare  not  mention! 
Knowest  thou,  sweet  one,  how  Lard  it 
is  not  to  be  at  liberty  even  to  utter  the 
name  of  my  beloved.  Recall  this  prohi- 
bition, and  grant  me  the  painfully  sweet 


126 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


Happiness  of  being  able  at  least  to  ad- 
dress thee  by  thy  name !  " 

"No,"  she  replied,  with  a  shudder; 
"  dost  thou  not  know  that  sleep-walkers 
wake  up  from  their  dreams  when  called 
by  their  name?  Now,  I  am  a  sleep- 
walker, who  with  smiling  hardihood 
hovers  about  on  giddy  heights ;  only  call 
me  by  my  name,  and  I  shall  wake  up 
and  fall  headlong  and  trembling  into  the 
abyss  beneath.  Ah,  Henry,  I  hate  my 
name,  for  it  is  pronounced  by  other  lips 
than  thine.  For  thee  I  will  not  be 
called  as  other  persons  name  me.  Bap- 
tise me  then,  Henry,  give  me  another 
name — a  name  which  is  our  secret, 
and  which  nobody  shall  know  but  our- 
selves." 

"  Then  I  shall  call  thee  GEKALDINE, 
and  as  Geraldine  I  will  sing  thy  praises 
and  extol  thee  before  all  the  world,  and 
I  will  repeat  to  thee,  evermore,  in  des- 
pite of  listeners  and  spies,  that  I  love 
thee ;  and  nobody,  not  even  the  king 
himself,  shall  be  able  to  forbid  me !  " 

"  Hush !  "  she  returned,  shuddering, 
"  speak  not  of  him.  Oh,  I  conjure  thee, 
my  Henry,  to  be  cautious;  remember 
that  thou  hast  sworn  to  me  ever  to  bear 
in  mind  the  danger  that  threatens  us 
both,  and  which  beyond  doubt  will 
crush  us  one  day  if  thou  shouldst  betray 
by  a  sound,  a  look,  a  smile,  this  sweet 
secret  which  binds  us  both  together. 
Knowest  thou  what  thou  hast  sworn  to 
me  besides  ? " 

"  I  do !  But  it  is  a  severe  and  un- 
natural law.  What,  even  when  I  am 
alone  with  thee,  shall  I  never  dare  to 
address  thee  otherwise  than  with  the 


awe  and  reserve  which  are  due  to  a 
queen  ?  Even  when  no  one  can  hear  us 
shall  I  not  be  at  liberty  to  make  any,  the 
slightest,  allusion  to  our  love? " 

"  No,  no — don't  do  so,  for  this  palace 
has  eyes  and  ears  everywhere — every- 
where there  are  spies  and  listeners — be- 
hind the  tapestry—behind  the  hangings 
— everywhere  they  lurk  stealthily,  and 
watch  every  gesture,  every  smile,  every 
look,  to  discover  if  possible  grounds  for 
suspicion.  No — no,  Henry,  swear  to 
me  by  our  love  that  thou  wilt  never,  ex- 
cept here  in  this  room,  address  me  other- 
wise than  as  thy  queen  !  Swear  to  me 
that  in  the  presence  of  the  world,  thou 
wilt  be  to  me  nothing  more  than  the  re- 
served and  reverential  servant  of  thy 
queen,  and  at  the  same  time  the  proud 
lord  and  earl,  of  whom  people  say  that 
no  woman  had  ever  the  power  to  touch 
his  heart.  Swear  to  me  that  by  no  look 
or  smile,  by  no  pressure  of  the  hand, 
wilt  thou  ever  betray  what,  outside  of 
this  room,  would  be  regarded  as  a  crime 
for  us  both.  Let  this  chamber  be  the 
temple  of  our  love  ;  but  when  once  the 
threshold  is  crossed,  we  will  not  dese- 
crate the  sweet  mysteries  of  our  happi- 
ness by  suffering  only  a  single  ray  to 
appear  before  profane  eyes !  Shall  it  be 
so,  my  Henry  ?  " 

"Well,  yes;  it  shall  be  so!"  he  re- 
plied, with  a  sad  accord,  "though  I 
must  confess  to  thee  that  this  terrible 
illusion  often  drives  me  to  the  verge  of 
despair.  Oh,  Geraldine  !  when  I  see  thee 
away  from  here,  when  I  perceive  with 
what  a  chilling  and  unmoved  expression 
thine  eye  meets  my  glance,  I  feel  as  if 


LADY  JANE. 


127 


my  heart  were  convulsed ;  and  I  say  to 
myself:  'This  is  not  my  heloved,  not 
the  tender  impassioned  woman  whom  I 
sometimes  in  the  darkness  of  night  fold 
in  my  arms;  this  is  Katharine  the 
queen,  hut  not  my  beloved.  A  woman 
cannot  thus  dissemble;  art  cannot  so 
far  succeed  as  to  be  able  to  overcome 
nature  itself,  and  to  ignore  the  essential 
instincts  of  the  human  heart.  Oh ! 
there  have  been  moments — fearful  terri- 
ble moments — when  it  seemed  to  me  as 
if  all  this  were  only  an  illusion,  a  mysti- 
fication ;  as  if  some  wicked  demon  as- 
sumed by  night  the  form  of  the  queen, 
in  order  to  juggle  me,  poor  frenzied  en- 
thusiast that  I  am,  with  a  happiness 
which  is  unreal,  and  which  exists  only 
in  my  imagination!  And  then  this 

thought  excites  within  me  a  frantic  rage, 

i 
an  overwhelming  desperation,  and  I  feel 

disposed,  despite  my  oath,  and  even  the 
danger  which  threatens  thee,  to  rush 
forward  to  thee  in  the  presence  of  all 
this  court-rabble,  and  even  of  the  king 
himself,  and  to  ask  thee  '  Art  thou  really 
what  thou  appearest  ?  Art  thou  Kath- 
arine Parr,  the  wife  of  King  Henry — 
neither  more  nor  less  ?  Or  art  thou  my 
beloved — the  woman  who  is  mine  with 
her  every  thought — her  every  breath, 
who  has  vowed  to  me  eternal  love — un- 
alterable fidelity,  and  whom,  in  spite  of 
the  whole  world  and  of  the  king,  I 
press  to  my  heart  as  my  own  posses- 
sion?'" 

"  Unhappy  Henry !  shouldst  thou  ever 
attempt  to  do  so,  it  would  be  certain 
death  to  us  both  I  " 

"  And  so  it  might  be !    In  death,  at 


least,  thou  wouldst  be  mine,  and  no  one 
should  any  longer  dare  to  divide  us,  and 
those  eyes  would  no  longer  look  coldly 
and  strangely  upon  me,  as  they  often- 
times do  at  present.  Oh!  I  entreat 
thee,  never  look  at  me  at  all,  if  it  can 
only  be  with  that  cold  and  distant  air, 
which  petrifies  my  heart !  Turn  thine 
eyes  away  from  me,  and  speak  to  me 
with  averted  countenance." 

"Then  people  will  say  that  I  hate 
thee,  Henry!" 

"Nay,  it  is  even  more  agreeable  if 
they  say  that  thou  dost  abhor  me,  than 
if  they  perceive  that  I  am  wholly  indif- 
ferent to  thee;  that  I  am  nothing  to 
thee  but  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  thy  Cham- 
berlain." 

"  No,  no,  Henry,  they  shall  perceive 
that  thou  art  more  to  me  than  that !  I 
will  give  thee  a  token  of  my  love  before 
the  entire  assembled  court.  Wilt  thou 
then  believe,  thou  dear  foolish  enthusi- 
ast, that  I  love  thee,  and  that  it  is  no 
demon  that  reposes  here  in  thy  arms, 
and  swears  that  she  loves  but  thee 
alone?  Say,  wilt  thou  then  believe 
me?" 

"I  shall !  But  no,  there  needs  no  to- 
ken— no  assurances.  I  know  it  truly — 
I  feel  indeed  the  sweet  reality,  which 
nestles,  warm,  and  bliss-infusing,  at  my 
side,  and  it  is  only  the  excess  of  my  fe- 
licity, which  makes  me  incredulous." 

"I  will  inspire  thee  with  faith,  and 
thou  shalt  no  longer  doubt  even  in  the 
intoxication  of  happiness.  Listen  then ! 
The  king,  as  you  know,  will  hold  a 
grand  tournament,  and  a  poet's  banquet, 
which  will  take  place  in  a  few  days. 


128 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


Well  then,  at  this  festivity,  I  shall  give 
thee  publicly,  and  in  the  presence  of  the 
king  and  of  the  court,  a  rosette,  which 
I  wear  on  my  shoulder,  and  in  the  silver 
fringe  of  which  thou  wilt  find  a  letter 
from  me.  Will  that  satisfy  thee,  my 
Henry  ? " 

"And  dost  thou  still  ask,  my  beloved? 
Dost  thou  ask  if  thou  wilt  make  me 
proud  and  happy  in  presence  of  all  thy 
courtiers  ? " 

He  pressed  her  firmly  to  his  heart 
and  kissed  her.  But  suddenly  she 
seemed  convulsed  in  his  arms,  and 
started  up  wildly. 

"  Day  is  dawning,  day  is  dawning !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "  Behold  yonder  a  red- 
dish streak  above  the  horizon.  The  sun 
is  about  to  rise,  and  daylight  is  already 
appearing." 

He  tried  to  hold  her  back  still,  but 
she  tore  herself  away  forcibly,  and 
wrapt  her  head  once  more  in  her  veil. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  day  is  breaking 
and  light  is  approaching !  Let  me  then, 
at  least,  behold  thy  countenance  for  a 
moment.  My  soul  thirsts  for  the  sight, 
as  the  parched  earth  for  the  dew. 
Come ;  here,  at  the  window,  it  is  light. 
Let  me  look  but  a  moment  into  thine 
eyes !  " 

But  she  tore  herself  violently  away. 
"No,  no,  thou  must  be  gone.  Listen, 
already  three  o'clock.  The  court  is  al- 
ready awake !  Seemed  it  not  as  if  some 
person  were  walking  outside  the  door  ? 
Hasten,  hasten  away,  if  thou  wouldst 
not  have  me  die  with  fear ! " 

She  flung  his  mantle  around  him  her- 
self, she  pressed  his  hat  over  his  brow, 


then  once  more  she  twined  her  arms 
round  his  neck,  and  imprinted  a  burning 
kiss  upon  his  lips. 

"Farewell,  my  beloved,  farewell, 
Henry  Howard.  When  we  see  each 
other  again  to-day,  thou  wilt  be  once 
more  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  and  I  the 
queen — not  thy  beloved — nor  the  woman 
who  loves  thee !  Happiness  is  over  for 
the  present,  and  suffering  must  now  re- 
sume its  place.  Farewell !  " 

She  opened  the  door  herself,  and 
forced  her  lover  to  depart.  "Adieu, 
Geraldine,  good-night,  my  beloved  ? 
Day  is  approaching,  and  I  shall  greet 
thee  again  as  my  queen,  and  once  more 
I  shall  have  to  bear  the  torment  of  thy 
cold  looks  and  the  agony  of  thy  haughty 
smile." 


CHAPTER  VI. 
LOYOLA' s  GENEEAL. 

SHE  rushed  to  the  window  and  looked 
after  him,  until  he  had  vanished  in  the 
dim  twilight,  and  then  she  uttered  a 
deep  cry  of  anguish,  and  wholly  over- 
come by  her  sufferings,  she  sank  down 
upon  her  knees,  weeping  and  moaning, 
and  wringing  her  hands  despairingly  to 
heaven. 

But  a  few  moments  since  so  joyful 
and  happy,  she  was  now  filled  with 
grief  and  woe,  and  bitter  sighs  of  lamen- 
tation trembled  on  her  lips. 

"  Alas !  alas !  "  she  cried  sobbingly, 
"  what  fearful  agonies  are  these,  and 
what  desperate  pain  is  this  which  rends 


^ 


LOYOLA'S  GENERAL. 


my  heart!  I  have  lain  in  his  arms,  I 
have  received  his  vows  of  love,  I  have 
suffered  his  kisses,  and  yet  these  vows 
are  not  mine,  and  it  was  not  upon  me 
that  those  kisses  were  bestowed.  He 
kisses  me  and  loves  in  me  only  the 
person  whom  I  hate;  he  vows  in  my 
hands  the  love  which  he  consecrates  to 
her ;  his  thoughts  and  feelings  are  hers 
and  hers  alone !  What  a  terrible  mar- 
tyrdom is  this !  To  be  loved  under  her 
name,  and  under  her  name  to  accept  the 
vows  of  love,  which  still  belong  of  right 
to  me — to  me  alone !  For  he  loves  me 
— me  only.  It  was  my  lips  that  he 
kissed — my  form  that  he  embraced ;  to 
me  are  his  words,  his  letters  addressed, 
and  it  is  I  who  answer  them.  He  loves 
me,  and  only  me,  and  yet  believes  not 
in  me.  I  am  for  him  nothing  but  an 
inanimate  picture,  like  all  other  women. 
This  he  told  me  himself,  and  I  did  not 
become  frantic,  and  I  had  the  dreadful 
resolution  to  pretend  that  the  tears 
which  despair  had  wrung  from  me,  were 
only  tears  of  rapture. 

"  Oh,  ignominious,  horrid  mockery  of 
Fate,  to  be  what  I  am  not,  and  not  to 
be  what  I  am  !  " 

And  with  cries  of  bitter  lamentation 
she  tore  her  hair  and  beat  her  breast, 
and  wept  and  groaned  aloud. 

She  heard  nothing ;  she  saw  nothing ; 
she  felt  nothing,  but  her  own  despair — 
her  unutterable  anguish. 

She  did  not  once  tremble  for  herself. 
She  did  not  even  reflect  for  a  moment 
that  she  would  be  lost  if  she  were  to  be 
found  here. 

And  yet,  beyond,  at  the  other  end,  a 


door  had  been  opened  softly  and  noise- 
lessly, and  a  man  had  entered. 

He  shut  the  door  behind  him,  and 
walked  up  to  Lady  Jane,  who  still  lay 
upon  the  floor.  He  stood  behind  her. 
While  she  uttered  her  despairing  cries — 
he  heard  every  word  that  fell  from  her 
trembling  lips ;  her  whole  agonized  and 
woe-riven  heart  lay  unveiled  before  him, 
and  she  knew  it  not. 

He  now  stooped  down  and  touched 
her  lightly  on  the  shoulder  with  his 
hand.  She  shuddered  and  recoiled  from 
the  touch,  as  if  she  had  been  stabbed 
with  a  dagger,  and  her  sobs  ceased 
straightway. 

A  fearful  pause  ensued.  The  woman 
lay  motionless,  breathless,  on  the  floor; 
and  tall,  motionless,  and  cold  as  a  brazen 
statue  stood  the  man  beside  her. 

"Lady  Jane  Douglas!"  he  said  at 
length,  in  grave  and  solemn  accents, 
"  rise  up !  It  becomes  not  the  daughter 
of  your  father  to  lie  prostrate  on  her 
knees,  unless  she  kneels  before  her  God. 
But  you  are  not  bending  before  God,  but 
before  an  idol  which  you  have  made  for 
yourself,  and  to  which  you  have  raised  a 
temple  in  your  heart.  This  idol  is  called 
'Your personal  UnhappinessS  But  it  is 
writen,  4  Ye  shall  have  no  other  gods  but 
me.'  Therefore  I  say  to  you  once  more, 
Lady  Jane  Douglas,  rise  from  your 
knees,  for  it  is  not  your  God  before 
whom  you  are  kneeling." 

And  as  if  the  words  had  exercised  a 
magnetic  power  over  her,  she  raised  her- 
self slowly  from  the  floor,  and  now 
stood,  as  cold  and  unmoved  as  a  marble 
statue,  in  the  presence  of  her  father. 


130 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


"  Fling  away  from  you  the  cares  of 
this  world  which  encumber  you,  and 
which  hinder  you  from  the  holy  work 
which  God  assigns  to  you,"  continued 
Lord  Douglas,  with  his  solemn  and  me- 
tallic voice.  "It  is  written,  'Come  to 
me,  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  deliver  ye,'  says  the  Lord. 
But  as  for  you,  Jane,  you  must  cast  your 
troubles  at  the  foot  of  the  throne,  and 
your  burden  shall  become  for  you  a 
crown,  which  shall- be  as  a  glory  around 
your  brow." 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head,  but 
she  dashed  it  fiercely  away. 

"No,"  she  cried,  with  thick,  stammer- 
ing utterance,  as  if  talking  in  a  dream. 
uAway  with  the  crown!  I  will  have 
no  crown  upon  which  devils  have  pro- 
nounced their  blessings.  I  will  have  no 
royal  purple  which  is  dyed  in  the  blood 
of  my  beloved !  " 

"  She  is  still  in  the  delirium  of  her 
pain,"  murmured  the  earl,  while  he  con- 
templated the  pale,  trembling  woman, 
who  had  now  once  more  sunk  down  on 
her  knees,  and  who  with  wide-spread 
and  wandering  eyes  stared  at  vacancy. 
But  the  earl's  looks  remained  cold  and 
unmoved,  and  not  the  slightest  compas- 
sion was  awakened  in  him  for  his  poor, 
distracted,  and  pain-worn  daughter. 

"  Stand  up,  Jane !  stand  up !  "  he  re- 
sumed with  stern  severity.  "  The 
Church  commands  thee  through  my 
mouth  to  save  her,  as  thou  hast  prom- 
ised to  do — that  is  to  say,  with  a  joy- 
ful heart,  and  with  a  God-confiding 
mind;  with  smiling  lips,  and  a  serene 
and  cheerful  look,  as  becomes  disciples 


filled  with  the  Faith,  and  as  thou  hast 
sworn  into  the  hands  of  our  lord  and 
master,  Ignatius  Loyola." 

"  I  cannot !  I  cannot !  my  father,"  she 
murmured  plaintively.  "I  cannot 
show  a  joyful  heart  when  this  same 
heart  is  lacerated  by  the  wild  boar  of 
despair.  I  cannot  command  my  looks 
to  be  cheerful  when  my  eyes  are  dimmed 
by  the  tears  of  agony.  Oh,  have  mercy  ! 
have  compassion !  Eemember  that  you 
are  my  father — that  I  am  your  daughter 
— the  daughter  of  a  woman  whom  you 
have  loved,  and  who  would  find  no  rest 
in  the  grave  if  she  knew  how  you  mar- 
tyr and  torment  me.  Oh,  mother, 
mother !  if  thy  spirit  be  near  me,  come 
and  protect  me.  Let  thy  mild  lookt 
fall  like  a  shade  over  my  head,  and  in- 
fuse a  breath  of  thy  love  into  the  heart, 
of  this  cruel  father,  who  wishes  to  offer 
his  child  as  a  sacrifice  upon  the  altar  of 
his  God." 

"  God  has  called  me,"  said  the  earl: 
"and  like  Abraham,  I  too  shall  know 
how  to  obey.  But  I  shall  not  adorn  my 
victim  with  flowers,  but  with  a  king's 
crown.  I  shall  not  plunge  a  knife  into 
her  breast,  but  I  will  put  a  golden  scep- 
tre into  her  hand  and  say  to  her :  Thou 
art  a  queen  before  men — but  be  a  true 
and  obedient  servant  before  God.  It  is 
thine  to  command  all.  But  thou  art 
governed  by  the  Holy  Church,  to 
whose  service  thou  hast  consecrated  thy- 
self, and  which  will  bless  thee  if  thou 
art  faithful,  but  which  will  crush  thee 
with  her  curse  shouldst  thou  dare  to  be- 
tray her  cause.  No,  thou  art  not  my 
daughter,  but  the  priestess  consecrated 


LOYOLA'S  GENERAL. 


131 


to  the  holy  service  of  the  Church.  No, 
I  have  no  compassion  for  thy  tears  and 
pains,  for  I  see  the  end  of  these  pains, 
and  I  know  that  these  tears  will  he  laid 
as  a  diadera  of  pearls  upon  thy  temples. 
Lady  Jane  Douglas,  it  is  the  holy  Lo- 
yola who  sends  you  his  commands  hy 
my  mouth.  Obey,  therefore,  not  be- 
cause I  am  your  father,  but  because  I 
am  the  General  Superior  to  whom  you 
have  sworn  obedience  and  fidelity  to 
the  end  of  your  life." 

"  Then  kill  me  at  once,  my  father !  " 
she  replied,  faintly.  "  Let  this  life  have 
an  end,  as  it  is  for  me  but  the  pro- 
tracted agony  of  martyrdom.  Punish 
me  for  my  disobedience  by  plunging  a 
dagger  into  my  bosom  ;  punish  me,  but 
grant  me  at  least  the  rest  which  the 
grave  affords." 

44  Poor  enthusiast,"  said  her  father, 
44  thinkest  thou  we  would  be  so  foolish 
as  to  subject  thee  to  so  easy  a  punish- 
ment? No,  no!  shouldst  thou  dare 
with  wicked  disobedience  to  oppose  my 
commands,  thy  atonement  will  be  terri- 
ble, and  thy  punishment  endless.  In 
that  case  I  shall  not  put  thee  to  death, 
but  only  the  man  whom  thou  lovest, 
—it  will  be  his  head  which  shall  fall, 
and  thou  wilt  be  his  murderess.  He 
will  die  upon  the  scaffold,  and  as  for 
thee,  thou  wilt  live  in  infamy." 

44  Oh,  horror!  "  groaned  Jane,  hiding 
her  face  in  her  hands. 

Her  father  continued  :  44  Foolish,  short- 
sighted child,  that  thought  she  could 
play  with  this  sword,  and  did  not  per- 
ceive that  this  sword  had  a  double  edge, 
which  might  smite  herself.  Thou  wast 


willing  to  be  the  servant  of  the  Church, 
in  order  thereby  to  become  the  mistress 
of  the  world.  Thou  wast  willing  to 
merit  a  glory  for  thyself,  but  this  glory, 
forsooth,  was  not  to  scorch  thy  own 
head  with  its  fiery  rays.  Foolish  child ! 
Who  plays  with  fire,  will  be  consumed 
by  fire.  We,  however,  saw  through  thy 
purpose,  and  perceived  the  wishes  of 
which  thou  wast  thyself  unconscious; 
we  scanned  the  very  depths  of  thy  be- 
ing, and  as  we  found  love  there,  we 
have  used  this  love  for  our  own  objects, 
and  for  thy  own  good.  Why  dost  thou 
then  complain,  and  wherefore  dost  thou 
weep  ?  Have  we  not  permitted  thee  to 
love  ?  Have  we  not  empowered  thee 
to  yield  thyself  wholly  up  to  this  love  ? 
Dost  thou  not  call  thyself  the  Earl  of 
Surrey's  wife,  and  canst  thou  not  name 
to  me  the  priest  who  has  sanctified  your 
espousals?  Lady  Jane,  obey,  and  we 
grant  thee  the  happiness  of  thy  love,  but 
only  dare  to  revolt  against  us,  and  dis- 
grace and  infamy  shall  await  thee,  and 
rejected  and  scorned  thou  shalt  stand 
before  the  whole  world,  the  paramour, 
the—" 

44  Hold,  father,  hold!"  cried  Lady 
Jane,  springing  up  from  the  ground. 
44  Cease  your  tejrible  words,  if  you  do 
not  wish  that  I  should  die  with  shame. 
No,  I  yield,  I  obey  1  You  are  right  I 
can  no  longer  go  back." 

44  Why  indeed  shouldst  thou  wish  to 
do  so  ?  Is  not  thine  a  life  of  pleasure 
and  enjoyment  ?  Is  it  not  a  rare  hap- 
piness to  have  one's  sins  proclaimed  a 
virtue,  and  to  bo  able  to  have  one's 
earthly  delight  imputed  as  a  heavenly 


132 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


merit?  And  why  then  dost  thou  com- 
plain that  he  does  not  love  thee?  Nay, 
he  loves  thee  of  a  certainty — his  vows 
of  love  still  resound  in  thy  ears,  and  thy 
heart  still  trembles  with  the  happiness 
which  thou  hast  tasted.  What  matters 
if  Surrey  sees  with  his  inward  eye,  in 
the  woman  whom  he  holds  in  his  arms, 
another  person  than  thee?  In  reality 
he  loves  but  thee  alone ;  whether  thou 
art  called  for  the  time  being,  by  the 
name  of  Katharine  Parr,  or  Jane  Douglas, 
it  is  all  the  same,  if  thou  art  still  his 
beloved." 

"  But  a  day  will  come  when  he  will 
discover  his  mistake,  and  then  he  will 
execrate  me." 

"  That  day  will  not  come.  The  Holy 
Church  will  know  how  to  prevent  that, 
if  thou  wilt  only  bow  to  her  behests  and 
obey  her." 

"  I  bow,"  sighed  Lady  Jane.  "  I  shall 
obey ;  only  promise  me,  my  father,  that 
no  harm  shall  befall  him,  and  that  I  shall 
not  be  his  murderess." 

"No,  on  the  contrary,  thou  shalt 
save  and  deliver  him.  Only  thou  must 
fulfil  to  the  letter  the  commands  which 
I  impose  upon  thee.  In  the  first  place, 
then  tell  me  the  result  of  your  last  in- 
terview together.  He  doubts  not  that 
thou  art  the  queen  ? " 

"  No ;  he  believes  it  so  firmly  that  he 
would  take  the  sacrament  upon  it. 
That  is,  he  believes  it  now,  because  I 
have  promised  to  give  him  a. token  pub- 
licly, whereby  he  may  perceive  that  it  is 
the  queen  who  loves  him." 

"  And  this  token !  "  asked  the  earl 
with  radiant  looks. 


"  I  have  promised  him  that  the  queen 
would  present  him  with  a  rosette  at  the 
great  tournament,  and  that  in  this  ro- 
sette there  would  be  a  note." 

"  Ah  the  thought  is  worthy  of  all  ad- 
miration !  "  cried  Lord  Douglas ;  "  only 
a  woman  who  wishes  to  be  revenged 
could  have  invented  the  idea.  And  so 
by  this  means  the  queen  will  become 
her  own  accuser,  and  will  herself  put  the 
proof  of  her  guilt  into  our  hands.  The 
only  difficulty  that  still  remains  is  to 
lead  the  queen  onr  without  rousing  her 
suspicion,  in  such  a  way  that  she  shall 
wear  this  rosette  and  give  it  to  the  Earl 
of  Surrey." 

uShe  will  do  so,  if  I  request  her,  for 
she  loves  me,  and  I  shall  so  represent 
the  matter  to  her  that  she  will  grant  it 
to  me  as  a  favor  of  love.  Katharine  is 
obliging  and  kindly  disposed,  and  will 
not  be  able  to  refuse  my  request." 

"And  I  shall  apprise  the  king;  that  is 
to  say,  I  shall  take  good  care  not  to  do  so 
myself,  for  it  is  always  dangerous  to  go 
into  the  cage  of  a  hungry  tiger  and  to 
take  him  his  food,  as  in  the  eagerness  of 
his  appetite,  he  might  easily  devour  one's 
own  hand  as  well  as  the  proffered  meal." 

"But  how?"  she  asked,  with  a  terri- 
fied expression,  "  will  he  content  him- 
self with  punishing  Katharine  alone; 
will  he  not  crush  him,  whom  he  must 
take  for  her  paramour  ?  " 

"  He  will  do  so.  But  thou  wilt  thy- 
self liberate  and  save  him.  Thou  wilt 
open  his  prison  for  him,  and  give  him 
freedom,  for  which  he  will  love  thee  as 
the  savior  of  his  life." 

"Father,  father!  the  game  which  you 


THE  PRISONER. 


133 


are  playing  is  a  hazardous  one,  and  the 
result  of  it  may  be  that  you  will  yourself 
become  the  murderer  of  your  own 
daughter.  For  hear  attentively  what  I 
tell  you  :  Should  his  head  fall,  I  will  not 
survive  him.  Should  you  make  rae  his 
murderess,  you  will  thereby  become 
yourself  my  assassin,  and  I  shall  curse 
you,  and  shall  call  down  imprecations 
upon  your  head  from  the  realm  of  lost 
spirits.  What  care  I  for  a  royal  diadem, 
if  it  be  stained  with  the  blood  of  Henry 
Howard?  "What  matters  to  me  honor 
and  fame  if  he  is  not  present  to  see  my 
greatness,  and  if  he  cannot  with  his 
beaming  looks  make  my  crown  resplen- 
dent ?  Project  him,  therefore, — preserve 
liis  life,  as  the  apple  of  your  eye,  if  you 
wish  that  I  should  accept  the  royal 
crown,  which  you  offer  me,  in  order  that 
the  King  of  England  may  once  more  be- 
come a  vassal  of  the  Church ! — " 

"  And  in  order  that  the  whole  of  de- 
vout Christendom  may  praise  Jane 
Douglas,  the  pious  queen  who  succeeded 
in  the  holy  work  of  bringing  back  once 
more  the  rebellious  and  apostate  son  of 
the  Church,  and  conducting  him  peni- 
tently to  the  feet  of  the  Holy  Father  at 
Rome — the  sole  consecrated  Head  of  the 
Church  on  earth.  Cheer  up,  good 
daughter;  do  not  despond!  A  high 
destiny  beckons  to  thee,  and  a  brilliant 
lot  awaits  thee.  Our  Holy  Mother 
Church  will  bless  and  extol  thee,  and 
Henry  the  Eighth  will  call  thee  his 
queen." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    PBISOSTEK. 

ALL  was  yet  quiet  and  still  in  the 
Palace  of  Whitehall.  Nothing  was 
moving,  and  no  one  had  heard  how- 
Lady  Jane  Douglas  had  quitted  her 
chamber  and  had  glided  along  the  corri- 
dor. 

Nobody  has  heard  this,  no  eye  is 
awake,  and  no  one  sees  what  is  now 
taking  place  in  the  queen's  apartment. 

She  is  alone — quite  alone.  Her  atten- 
dants are  all  asleep  in  their  rooms.  The 
queen  has  herself  bolted  the  doors  of  the 
ante-chamber  from  within,  and  no  other 
door  leads  into  her  boudoir,  or  into 
her  bedroom,  but  through  the  ante- 
chamber. 

She  is  therefore  perfectly  secure  from 
intrusion — perfectly  safe. 

She  now  proceeds  to  wrap  herself 
quickly  and  hastily  in  a  long  dark  man- 
tle, the  hood  of  which  she  draws  down 
over  her  head  and  over  her  brow,  and 
which  completely  covers  and  conceals  her 
figure. 

And  now  she  presses  a  spring  fixed  in 
the  frame  of  a  picture  on  the  wall.  The 
picture  flies  back,  and  exposes  to  view 
an  outlet,  through  which  a  person  can 
pass  quite  conveniently. 

Katharine  steps  forth.  She  then  care- 
fully restores  the  picture  to  its  place 
from  the  outside,  and  for  some  time  pro- 
ceeds along  a  passage  hollowed  out  in 
the  interior  of  the  wall,  feeling  her  way 
on  both  sides  until,  at  length,  she  finds  a 
knob  fixed  in  the  passage.  She  presses 


134: 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


this  knob,  and  a  trap-door  opens  at  her 
feet — through  which  a  feeble  light  pene- 
trates, and  renders  visible  a  small  nar- 
row staircase.  Katharine  descends  with 
lightning  speed.  Now  at  the  foot  of 
this  flight  of  steps  she  touches  another 
secret  spring,  and  again  a  door  opens, 
through  which  the  queen  enters  a  large 
saloon. 

"  Oh,"  she  whispers,  breathing  more 
freely,  "  at  length  the  garden-saloon." 

She  crosses  the  apartment  swiftly, 
and  opens  another  door. 

"  John  Hey  wood  ?  " 

"  I  am  here,  queen." 

"  Quiet,  quiet ;  go  softly,  that  the 
sentinel  on  guard  close  behind  the  door 
may  not  hear  us.  Come,  we  have  yet 
a  considerable  way  to  go ;  let  us  make 
haste." 

Once  more  she  presses  a  spring  fixed 
in  the  wall,  and  once  more  a  door  opens. 
But  before  Katharine  closes  it  she  takes 
from  the  table  a  small  lighted  lamp,  pre- 
pared on  purpose  by  her  faithful  atten- 
dant, and  which  will  enable  them  to 
thread  their  way  along  the  dark  and 
difficult  road  which  they  have  now  to 
travel  over. 

She  now  shuts  the  doors  behind  them, 
and  they  enter  upon  a  long  dark  pas- 
sage, at  the  end  of  which  is  another 
staircase,-  which  they  both  descend. 
The  number  of  the  steps  seems  endless, 
and  by  degrees  the  air  becomes  denser, 
and  the  steps  become  damp.  A  death- 
like silence  surrounds  them.  Not  a 
sound  of  life — not  the  slightest  mur- 
v  mnr  is  perceptible. 

They  are  now  in  a  subterranean  pas- 


sage which  seems  to  extend  before  them 
to  an  interminable  length. 

Katharine  turns  round  to  John  Hey- 
wood  ;  the  lamp  lights  up  her  counte- 
nance, which  is  pale,  but  which  exhibits 
an  expression  of  firmness  and  resolution. 

"  Now,  John  Hey  wood,  consider  this 
matter  well !  I  don't  ask  you  if  you 
have  courage,  for  that  I  know.  I  only 
wish  to  ascertain  if  you  are  willing  to 
devote  this  courage  for  your  queen." 

"  No,  not  for  my  queen,  but  for  the 
noble  and  generous  lady  who  has  saved 
my  son." 

"  Then  you  must  be  my  protector  on 
the  'present  occasion  should  danger 
threaten  us.  Yet,  with  God's  blessing, 
I  trust  we  shall  remain  unharmed.  Let 
us  proceed." 

Silently  and  resolutely  they  continu 
their  journey  along  the  dreary  way. 

At  length  they  reach  a  spot  where 
the  passage  widens  and  spreads  out  into 
a  small  open  chamber,  along  the  side- 
walls  of  which  are  fixed  a  few  seats. 

"  We  have  now  completed  half  our 
journey."  said  Katharine,  "and  we  will 
rest  here  a  little  while !  " 

She  placed  the  lamp  on  a  small  stone 
table  in  the  middle  of  the  passage,  and 
sat  down,  while  she  beckoned  to  John 
Hey  wood  to  take  a  seat  beside  her. 

"  I  am  not  the  queen  in  this  place," 
she  continued,  "and  yon  are  not  the 
king's  fool,  but  I  am  a  poor  feeble  wo- 
man, and  you  are  my  protector.  You 
have  therefore  a  full  right  to  sit  beside 
me." 

John  Heywood  shook  his  head  smil- 
ing, and  sat  down  at  her  feet.  . 


THE   PRISONER. 


135 


"  Holy  Katharine !  Savior  of  mj  son, 
I  lie  down  at  thy  feet  and  offer  thee  my 
prayer  of  thanks." 

"Dost  thou  know  this  subterranean 
passage,  John  ?  "  asked  the  queen. 

John  Heywood  smiled  sadly. 

u  Yes,  queen,  I  know  it." 

"  Ah !  thou  knowest  it  ?  I  thought 
this  secret  belonged  to  the  king  alone." 

"Then  you  will  readily  understand, 
queen,  why  the  fool  should  know  it. 
For  the  King  of  England  and  the  fool 
are  twin  brothers.  Yes,  queen,  I  know 
this  passage,  and  once  before  I  travelled 
it  in  suffering  and  tears." 

"  What?  yourself— John  Heywood?  " 

44  Yes,  queen,  and  now  I  ask  you  if 
you  know  the  history  of  this  subter- 
ranean passage  ?  You  are  silent.  Well 
then,  happy  for  you  that  you  do  not 
know  it,  and  were  I  to  relate  to  you  the 
whole  story,  this  night  would  be  too 
short  for  the  purpose.  When  this  pas- 
sage was  built,  Henry  was  still  young, 
and  still  possessed  a  heart.  At  that 
time  he  loved  not  only  his  ladies,  but 
even  his  friends  and  servants,  especially 
Cromwell,  the  all-powerful  minister. 
Cromwell  then  lived  at  Whitehall,  and 
Henry  occupied  the  royal  apartments  in 
the  tower.  But  Henry  had  always  a 
strong  affection  for  his  favorite,  and  so 
Cromwell  surprised  him  one  day  with 
this  subterranean  passage,  the  building 
of  which  occupied  one  hundred  men  for 
a  whole  year — Ah,  the  king  was  at  that 
time  greatly  touched,  and  thanked  his 
great  minister  with  tears  and  embraces 
for  this  surprise.  Scarcely  a  day  passed . 
that  Henry  did  not  pay  Cromwell  a  visit 


through  this  passage.  Thus  he  per- 
ceived, day  by  day,  that  the  palace  at 
Whitehall  was  becoming  more  splendid 
and  magnificent ;  and  when  he  returned 
to  the  tower  he  found  that  this  resi- 
dence was  wholly  unfit  for  a  king,  and 
that  his  minister  lived  in  far  more  royal 
state  than  the  King  of  England.  This, 
my  queen,  was  the  cause  of  Cromwell's 
fall.  The  king  wished  to  have  White- 
hall !  The  wily  Cromwell  perceived 
this,  and  he  presented  him  with  his  pre- 
cious treasure — his  palace,  in  building 
and  adorning  which  he  had  spent  ten 
years  of  his  life.  Henry  accepted  the 
gift,  but  now  Cromwell's  fall  was  inevi- 
table. The  king  could  not,  of  course, 
forgive  Cromwell  for  having  offered  him 
a  gift,  which  was  so  valuable,  that 
Henry  was  unable  or  unwilling  to  make 
a  return  for  it.  He  accordingly  re- 
mained Cromwell's  debtor,  and  as  this 
piqued  and  annoyed  him,  he  vowed 
Cromwell's  destruction.  When  Henry 
repaired  to  Whitehall  it  was  resolved 
that  Cromwell  should  mount  the  scaffold. 
Ah !  the  king  is  a  very  thrifty  master- 
builder.  A  palace  costs  him  nothing 
more  than  the  head  of  one  of  his  sub- 
jects. With  Cromwell's  head  he  paid 
for  Whitehall,  and  Wolsey  died  on  ac- 
count of  Hampton  Court." 

"  But  not  upon  the  scaffold,  John  ?  " 
"  Oh,  no.  Henry  preferred  breaking 
his  heart  rather  than  his  neck.  He  first 
allowed  Wolsey  to  present  him  with 
that  palatial  gem,  Hampton  Court, 
with  all  its  treasures,  and  then  de- 
prived him  of  all  his  high  offices  and 
stripped  him  of  all  his  dignities.  At 


136 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


length  he  was  travelling  as  a  prisoner 
to  the  tower,  but  he  died  on  the  way 
thither.  You  are  quite  right !  "Wolsey 
did  not  die  upon  the  scaffold,  he  was 
executed  by  a  more  tedious  and  cruel 
process." 

"  Did  you  not  say,  John,  that  you  had 
yourself  once  travelled  this  road  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  my  queen ;  and  it  was 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  leave  of  the 
noblest  of  men — the  most  faithful  of 
friends,  Sir  Thomas  More!  I  prayed 
and  besought  Cromwell  for  a  long  time, 
until  at  length  he  had  compassion  on 
my  suffering  and  allowed  me  to  go 
through  this  passage  to  Sir  Thomas 
More,  in  order  that  I  might  at  least  re- 
ceive the  blessing  and  the  parting  fare- 
well of  this  sainted  man.  Ah,  queen, 
~let  us  speak  no  more  of  this  subject! 
From  that  day  forward  I  became  a  fool, 
for  I  perceived  that  one  was  not  paid  for 
his  trouble  in  being  a  serious  man  in  this 
world,  when  such  men  as  More  were 
executed  as  malefactors.  Come,  queen, 
let  us  go  on !  " 

"  Yes,  John,  let  us  proceed,"  she  re- 
plied, rising  from  her  seat.  "But  are 
you  aware  whither  we  are  going?  " 

"Ah,  queen,  do  I  not  know  you? 
And  did  I  not  tell  you  that  to-morrow 
Maria  Askew  would  be  put  to  the  rack  if 
she  did  not  recant." 

"I  see  you  have  understood  me,"  she 
returned,  nodding  to  him  in  a  friendly 
manner.  "Yes,  I  am  going  to  Maria 
Askew." 

"But  how  shall  you  find  out  her 
\.  dungeon  without  being  seen  and  dis- 
covered ? " 


"Even  the  unfortunate  have  friends, 
John.  Nay,  the  queen  herself  has  a  few. 
And  so  chance,  or  rather  Providence, 
has  ordained  that  Maria  Askew  should 
be  confined  in  the  little  room  into  which 
this  secret  passage  leads." 

"  Is  she  alone  in  this  room  ? " 

"Yes,  quite  alone.  The  sentinels 
stand  outside  before  the  door." 

"  But  if  they  hear  you,  and  open  the 
door?" 

"  Then  I  am  lost  beyond  doubt,  unless 
God  should  assist  me." 

They  proceeded  in  silence,  both  too 
much  occupied  with  their  own  thoughts 
to  wish  to  disturb  each  other  by  conver- 
sation. 

But  this  long  journey  at  length  fa- 
tigued Katharine.  She  leaned  against 
the  wall  quite  exhausted. 

"  Will  you  grant  me  a  favor,  queen  ? " 
asked  John  Hey  wood.  "  Allow  nie  to 
carry  you — your  little  feet  are  unable  to 
bear  you  any  longer;  allow  me  to  be 
your  feet,  your  majesty." 

This  offer  she  declined  with  a  cordial 
smile. 

"  No,  John,  this  is  the  suffering-sta- 
tion of  a  saint,  and  you  know  we  are 
bound  to  perform  this  office  upon  our 
knees  and  in  the  sweat  of  our  brow." 

"  Oh,  queen,  how  noble  and  how  cou- 
rageous you  are !  "  cried  John  Hey  wood. 
"  You  do  good  without  parade,  and  fear 
no  danger  when  a  work  of  kindness  or 
charity  is  to  be  accomplished." 

"Indeed,  John,"  she  rejoined  with  an 
enchanting  smile,  "  I  do  fear  danger,  and 
it  is  because  I  do,  that  I  requested  you 
to  accompany  me !  I  had  a  horror  of 


THE  PRISONER. 


137 


this  long  lonely  way,  and  of  the  dark- 
ness and  deathlike  stillness  of  this  under- 
ground passage.  Ah,  John,  I  thought 
to  myself  that  if  I  went  this  journey 
alone,  the  shades  of  Anne  Bullen  and  of 
Katharine  of  Arragon  would  be  roused 
from  their  sleep  by  me,  who  wear  their 
crown,  and  that  they  would  hover 
around  me,  and  would  take  me  by  the 
hand  and  lead  me  to  their  graves,  in  or- 
der to  show  me  that  there  was  still 
room  for  me  also  beside  them.  You  see 
then,  John,  that  I  am  not  courageous, 
but  only  a  timid,  trembling  woman." 
"  And  yet  you  came,  queen?  " 
"  I  reckoned  upon  you,  John.  It  was 
my  duty  to  attempt  this  journey,  in  or- 
der, perhaps,  to  save  the  life  of  a  poor 
enthusiastic  maiden.  For  it  shall  not  be 
said  that  Katharine  abandons  her  friends 
in  misfortune,  or  that  she  shrinks  from 
danger.  I  am  but  a  poor,  feeble  woman, 
who  cannot  defend  her  friends  with 
arms,  and  therefore  I  must  have  recourse 
to  other  means.  But  look,  John,  the 
passage  divides  here!  Alas,  I  only 
knew  it  from  descriptions  which  have 
been  given  me,  but  I  was  never  told  that 
the  road  branched  off  at  this  point! 
Now,  John,  which  way  shall  we  take  ?  " 
"  This  one,  queen,  and  here  we  are  at 
the  end  of  our  journey.  The  other  way 
yonder  leads  to  the  torture-chamber. 
That  is  to  say,  to  a  small  grated  window, 
through  which  the  torture-chamber  can 
be  seen.  Whenever  King  Henry  was  in 
a  specially  good  humor,  he  repaired 
with  his  friend  to  that  grating,  in  order 
to  divert  himself  a  little  with  the  agonies 
of  those  who  were  condemned  to  the 


rack,  as  blasphemers.  For  you  are  well 
aware,  queen,  that  the  honor  of  the  rack 
is  only  accorded  to  those  who  have 
blasphemed  God,  or  in  other  words  who 
have  not  recognized  King  Henry  as  the 
pope  of  their  Church.  But  stay,  here 
we  are  at  the  door ;  and  there  is  the 
spring  which  opens  it." 

Katharine  put  her  lamp  on  the  ground, 
and  touched  the  spring. 

The  door  turned  slowly  and  noiseless- 
ly on  its  hinges,  and,  softly  as  shadows, 
they  both  entered. 

They  now  found  themselves  in  a 
small,  round  chamber,  which  appeared 
to  have  been  originally  a  niche  wrought 
in  the  wall  of  the  tower,  rather  than  a 
room.  Only  through  a  small  grated 
aperture  in  the  wall  a  little  light  and 
air  entered  the  dungeon,  whose  cold, 
dreary  walls  showed  the  stones  of  the 
rough  masonry.  Not  a  chair,  nor  a  ta- 
ble was  there  in  this  narrow  cell,  but  in 
one  corner,  on  the  ground,  was  a  heap 
of  straw.  Upon  this  straw  lay  a  pale, 
delicate  being ;  her  hollow  and  haggard 
cheeks  as  white  as  alabaster,  her  brow 
so  pure  and  clear — so  full  of  peace  the 
whole  countenance;  her  bare,  wasted 
arms  flung  back  above  her  head,  her 
hands  clasped  above  her  forehead,  her 
head  turned  aside  in  quiet,  peaceful 
slumber,  her  fine  delicate  figure  wrapped 
in  a  long  dark  robe,  and  a  smile  upon 
her  lips,  known  to  those  only  who  are 
happy. 

This  was  Maria  Askew,  the  malefactor 
— the  condemned.  Maria  Askew,  who 
was  only  a  blasphemer,  because  she  did 
not  believe  in  the  divine  attributes  and 


138 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   BIS   COURT. 


lofty  pretensions  of  the  king,  and  be- 
cause she  would  not  subject  her  mind  to 
his  decrees. 

"She  sleeps!  "  whispered  Katharine, 
deeply  moved.  And,  quite  involuntarily, 
approaching  the  couch  of  the  sufferer, 
she  folded  her  hands,  and  a  silent  prayer 
trembled  upon  her  lips. 

"  Thus  sleep  the  just  1  "  said  John 
Heywood.  "The  angels  comfort  them 
in  slumber,  and  the  breath  of  God  wafts 
refreshment  to  their  souls.  Poor 
maiden,  how  soon,  and  they  will  strain 
these  lovely  and  beautiful  limbs,  and 
torture  thee  for  the  honor  of  God;  and 
this  mouth,  too,  which  now  smiles  so 
peacefully,  they  will  distort  with  groans 
of  agony ! " 

"No,  no,"  returned  Katharine,  eager- 
ly. "  I  have  come  to  save  her,  and  God 
will  succor  and  enable  me  to  do  so.  I 
dare  no  longer  spare  her  slumbers.  I 
must  awake  her." 

She  stooped  down  and  imprinted  a 
kiss  upon  the  young  maiden's  brow. 

"Maria,  wake  up,  I  am  here!  I  will 
save  thee,  and  will  set  thee  free.  Maria, 
Maria,  wake  up !  " 

She  slowly  opened  her  large  brilliant 
eyes,  and  nodded  a  greeting  to  Kathar- 
ine. 

"  Katharine  Parr !"  she  said  smiling. 
"  I  only  expected  a  letter  from  you,  and 
you  have  come  yourself? " 

"  The  sentinels  have  been  dismissed, 
and  the  jailers  changed,  Maria,  for  they 
discovered  our  correspondence." 

"  Ah,  then  you  will  no  longer  write 
to  me  in  future  !  And  yet  your  letters 
were  my  sole  comfort,"  sighed  Maria 


Askew.  "  However,  it  is  well,  and  per- 
haps this  will  only  tend  to  lighten  the 
road  which  I  have  to  travel !  The  heart 
must  be  free  from  all  earthly  ties,  in  or- 
der that  the  soul  may  move  its  wings 
the  more  freely  when  it  soars  aloft  to 
return  to  its  home  with  God." 

"  Listen,  Maria,  listen  !  "  said  Kathar- 
ine, softly  but  eagerly.  "A  terrible 
danger  threatens  thee.  The  king  has 
directed  that  thou  shouldst  be  moved  to 
recant  by  means  of  the  rack !  " 

"Well,  and  what  more?"  asked  Ma- 
ria, with  a  smiling  countenance. 

"Unhappy  girl,  thou  knowest  not 
what  thou  sayest!  Little  dost  thou 
know  the  fearful  tortures  which  await 
thee.  Thou  knowest  not  the  force  of 
pain,  which  is  perhaps  even  more  pow- 
erful than  the  spirit,  and  is  able  to  sub- 
due it." 

"And  if  I  knew  all  this,  how  far 
would  it  help  me? "  asked  Maria  Askew. 
"  You  say  they  intend  putung  me  to  the 
rack.  Well  then,  I  shall  be  obliged  to 
bear  it,  for  I  have  no  power  to  change 
their  will." 

"Nay,  Maria,  nay;  thou  hast  the 
power!  Recall  what  thou  hast  said, 
Maria !  Declare  that  knowledge  has 
come  to  thee,  and  that  now  thou  per- 
ceivest  thou  hadst  been  deceived.  Say 
that  thou  wilt  acknowledge  the  king  to 
be  the  head  of  the  Church,  that  thou 
'wilt  accept  the  six  articles,  and  no 
longer  believe  in  the  Pope  of  Rome. 
Ah,  Maria,  God  sees  into  thy  heart,  and 
knows  thy  thoughts.  Thou  hast  no 
need  to  announce  them  with  thy  lips. 
He  has  given  thee  life,  and  thou  art  not 


THE   PRISONER. 


139 


at  liberty  to  fling  it  away ;  thou  must 
try  to  preserve  it  as  long  as  thou  canst. 
Retract,  therefore !  It  is  surely  allowa- 
ble to  deceive  those  who  wish  to  become 
our  murderers.  If,  in  their  proud  arro- 
gance, they  demand  of  thee  to  say  what 
they  say,  why  only  imagine  them  to  be 
men  bereft  of  reason,  who  are  suffered 
for  the  moment  to  indulge  their  caprice, 
lest  they  become  raving  madmen.  After 
all,  what  matters  it  if  thou  sayest  the 
king  is  the  head  of  the  Church  ?  God 
looks  down  from  his  throne  on  high, 
and  smiles  at  this  petty  earthly  warfare, 
which  men  wage  amongst  themselves, 
and  in  which  His  honor  is  in  no  wise  in- 
volved. Let  learned  men  and  theolo- 
gians quarrel  arid  dispute — that  is  no  con- 
cern of  us  women.  If  we  only  believe 
in  Gorl,  and  carry  His  spirit  within  us, 
the  form  or  the  manner  in  which  we  do 
so  is  of  little  importance.  Here,  how- 
ever, the  question  is  not  about  God,  but 
about  externals,  and  non-essential  articles 
of  belief.  What  can  such  things  matter 
to  thee  ?  "What  hast  thou  to  do  with 
the  quarrels  of  priests?  Retract,  there- 
fore, poor  enthusiastic  child,  retract !  " 

While  Katharine  thus  spoke  with 
breathless  eagerness,  Maria  Askew  had 
raised  herself  up  slowly  from  her 'couch, 
and  now  stood,  like  a  slender  and  delicate 
lily,  opposite  the  queen. 

Her  noble  features  wore  an  expres- 
sion of  deep  anger.  Her  eyes  flashed, 
and  a  disdainful  smile  settled  on  her 
lips. 

u  What !  you  can  tender  me  this  ad- 
vice ?  "  she  asked.  u  Do  you  wish  me 
to  deny  my  faith  and  forswear  ray  God, 


merely  to  escape  earthlj  pain!  And 
your  tongue  does  not  refuse  to  utter 
these  words,  and  your  heart  does  not 
recoil  with  shame  while  you  offer  this 
counsel.  Look  at  these  arms!  What 
are  they  worth  that  I  should  not  sacri- 
fice them  to  God?  Look  at  these  feeble 
limbs !  Are  they  so  precious,  that  like  a 
sordid  miser  I  should  save  them  ?  No, 
no ;  God  is  my  highest  good — not  this 
feeble,  tottering  frame.  To  God  I 
yield  it  up!  I  retract  or  recant? — 
never!  Belief  does  not  suffer  itself 
to  be  hidden  under  this  cloak  or  that :  it 
must  be  naked  and  undisguised  before 
the  eyes  of  mankind.  Such  be  mine ! 
And  if  I  am  chosen  to  be  a  witness  ot 
the  true  faith,  which  does  not  deny  it- 
self, but  which  confesses  itself  openly, 
then  grant  me  this  choice.  Many  are 
called  but  few  are  chosen.  If  I  am  one 
of  the  elect,  I  thank  God  for  it,  and  I 
only  bless  the  poor,  erring  mortals,  who 
by  means  of  the  rack,  have  made  me  a 
chosen  vessel.  Ah,  believe  me,  Katha- 
rine, I  rejoice  in  sight  of  death,  for  thia 
life  is  but  a  dreary,  desolate,  and 
wretched  existence.  Let  me  die,  Kath- 
arine— die — that  I  may  find  immortality 
and  bliss !  " 

"But  poor,  hapless  child!  This  is 
more  than  death — this  is  the  torture  of 
earth /which  threatens  thee.  Oh,  re- 
flect, Maria,  that  thou  are  but  a  feeble 
woman !  Who  knows  but  that  the  rack 
will  yet  subdue  thy  spirit;  and  that 
with  torn  and  dislocated  limte,  thou  wilt 
at  length,  in  the  frenzy  of  pain,  be 
brought  to  retract  and  forswear  thy 
faith  ? " 


140 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


"  Were  I  capable  of  so  doing,"  cried 
Maria  Askew,  with  flashing  eyes,  "  be- 
lieve me,  queen,  that  when  I  recovered 
consciousness,  I  would  die  by  my  own 
hand,  in  order,  as  a  punishment  for  my 
recanting,  to  deliver  myself  up  to  eternal 
perdition !  God  has  commanded  me  to 
be  a  witness  for  the  true  faith.  His 
command  shall  be  fulfilled !  " 

"Well  then,  be  it  so,"  said  Katharine, 
with  decision.  "  Do  not  retract,  but  at 
least  save  thyself  from  thy  executioners ! 
I,  Maria,  I  will  save  thee!  I  cannot 
suffer  that  this  graceful  and  fair  form 
should  fall  a  victim  to  the  outrageous 
and  contemptible  prejudices  of  men,  or 
that,  for  the  honor  of  God,  a  noble 
image,  moulded  in  His  own  likeness, 
should  be  tortured  in  the  name  of  that 
same  God !  Oh,  come ;  I  will  save  thee ! 
I,  the  queen.  Give  me  thy  hand ! 
Follow  me  out  of  this  dungeon ;  I  know 
a  way  which  will  lead  thee  away  from 
here,  and  I  will  conceal  thee. in  my  own 
apartments,  until  thou  canst  continue 
thy  flight  without  danger." 

"  No,  no,  queen,  it  is  not  you  that 
shall  conceal  her  with  you,"  said  John 
Hey  wood.  "You  have  favored  me  so 
far  as  to  allow  me  to  become  your  con- 
fidant. Suffer  me  now  also  to  have  a 
share  in  your  noble  work.  It  is  not 
with  you  that  Maria  Askew  shall  find  a 
place  of  refuge,  but  with  me.  Oh, 
come,  Maria,  follow  -your  friends !  It  is 
life  which  summons  you  forth,  which 
opens  your  prison  doors,  and  which 
calls  to  you  by  a  thousand  cherished 
names !  Hear  you  not  all  the  sweet  and 
attractive  voices ;  see  you  not  all  those 


noble  and  smiling  faces,  how  they  greet 
you  and  beckon  to  you  ?  Maria  Askew, 
it  is  a  noble  bridegroom  who  calls  to 
you.  As  yet  you  know  him  not,  but  he 
waits  for  you  abroad  in  the  world. 
Maria  Askew,  there  are  young  children 
who  hold  out  their  tender  arms  to  you. 
You  have  not  yet  borne  them,  but  love 
holds  them  in  its  arms,  and  will  bring 
them  to  meet  you.  It  is  the  part  of  a 
wife  and  a  mother,  which  the  world  has 
yet  to  expect  from  thee,  Maria.  Thou 
canst  not  refuse  the  sacred  vocation 
which  God  has  given  thee!  Come, 
then,  and  follow  us ;  follow  thy  queen, 
who  has  the  right  of  commanding  her 
subject.  Follow  the  friend  who  swears 
that  he  will  watch  over,  and  protect 
thee  as  a  father  !  " 

"Father  in  heaven,  protect  me!  ' 
cried  Maria  Askew,  falling  on  her  knees, 
and  holding  up  her  hands  in  an  attitude 
of  supplication. 

"  Father  in  heaven,  they  want  to 
snatch  thy  child  from  Thee,  and  to 
estrange  my  heart  from  Thee !  They  wish 
to  lead  me  into  temptation,  and  to  se- 
duce me  with  their  speech  !  Protect  me, 
Father;  make  my  ear  deaf  that  I  hear 
them  not.  Give  me  some  sign  that  I 
am  thine,  that  no  one  else'  has  power 
over  me  but  Thee  alone  ; — some  token, 
Father,  that  Thou  callest  me !  " 

And  as  if  God  had  indeed  granted  her 
prayer,  a  loud  knockin'g  was  now  heard 
at  the  outer  door,  and  a  voice  cried 
"  Maria  Askew,  wake  up,  and  prepare 
— the  chancellor  and  the  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester are  coming  to  take  you  hence." 

"Alas!   the  rack,"   groaned  Katha- 


THE   PRISONER. 


141 


rine,  as  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands 
with  a  shudder. 

"  Yes,  the  rack,"  said  Maria  Askew 
with  a  blissful  smile.  "  God  calls  me !  " 

John  Heywood  approached  the  queen 
and  seized  her  hand  with  eagerness, 
"  You  see  it  is  all  in  vain,'1  he  said,  ur- 
gently. "  Hasten  then  and  save  your- 
self. Haste,  and  quit  this  dungeon,  ere 
yonder  door  be  opened." 

"No,"  said  Katharine,  firmly  and 
decidedly — "No,  I  remain:  she  shall 
not  surpass  me  in  courage  and  greatness 
of  soul ; — she  will  not  deny  her  God, — 
well  then,  I  too  shall  be  a  witness  for 
my  God!  I  shall  not  cast  down  my 
eyes  with  shame  to  the  ground  before  a 
young  girl ;  like  her  I  shall  confess  my 
belief  freely  and  publicly — like  her  I 
shall  say :  God  alone  is  the  Lord  of  his 
Church.  God—" 

Outside,  all  was  activity  and  motion 
— a  key  was  heard  turning  in  the  lock. 

"Queen,  I  beseech  you,"  entreated 
John  Heywood,  "  by  all  that  is  sacred 
to  you — by  your  love,  come — come 
away !  " 

"  No,  no !  "  she  exclaimed  with  vehe- 
mence. 

But  now  Maria  Askew  seized  her 
hand,  and  raising  her  other  arm  to 
heaven,  said  with  a  loud  and  imperious 
voice :  "In  the  name  of  God  I  command 
thee  to  leave  me  !  " 

While  Katharine  involuntarily  gave 
way,  John  Heywood  pressed  her  back 
to  \the  secret  door,  through  which  he 
forced  her,  almost  by  violence,  and 
drawing  it  after  them  both,  closed  it 
from  the  outside. 


Scarcely  was  the  secret  door  closed, 
when  the  other  door  opened. 

""With  whom  were  you  speaking? " 
asked  Gardiner,  looking  round  with  a 
searching  glance. 

"With  the  tempter,  who  wished  to 
make  me  turn  away  from  God,"  she 
replied,  "  With  the  tempter,  who  on  the 
approach  of  your  footsteps  wished  to 
delude  me  with  fear,  and  persuade  me  to 
recant." 

"  Then  you  are  firmly  resolved — you 
will  not  recant  ?  "  asked  Gardiner,  and 
a  ferocious  joy  lighted  up  his  hard  pale 
features. 

"  No ;  I  will  not  recant,"  she  re- 
plied, with  a  beaming  and  smiling  coun- 
tenance. 

"  Then  I  must  conduct  thee  in  God's 
name,  and  in  the  name  of  the  king,  into 
the  torture-chamber !  "  cried  the  Chan- 
cellor Wriothesley,  stepping  forward  and 
laying  his  hand  heavily  upon  Maria's 
shoulder.  "As  thou  hast  refused  to 
hear  the  warning  and  gentle  voice  of 
love,  we  must  now  endeavor  by  the 
voice  of  anger  and  of  damnation  to 
rouse  thee  from  thy  errors !  " 

He  beckoned  to  his  racksmen,  who 
stood  behind  him  at  the  open  door,  and 
commanded  them  to  seize  and  conduct 
her  to  the  torture-chamber. 

Maria  repelled  them  with  a  smile. 

"  Don't  touch  me,  pray !  that  is  un- 
necessary. The  Redeemer  himself  went 
on  foot,  and  bore  his  cross  to  the  place 
of  execution.  I  shall  travel  as  he  did. 
Show  me  the  way,  I  will  follow  yon,  but 
let  no  one  dare  to  touch  me.  I  will  show 
you  that,  not  by  compulsion,  but  freely 


142 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


and  joyfully,  I  travel  the  path  of  suffering 
which  I  am  to  endure  for  the  sake  of  my 
God.  Rejoice  my  soul,  sing  my  lips,  for 
the  bridegroom  is  near,  and  the  banquet 
is  about  to  begin !  " 

And  with  jubilant  strains  Maria  Askew 
began  to  sing  a  spiritual  song,  which  was 
not  yet  ended  when  she  entered  the 
chamber  of  torture. 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

THE  PRINCESS  ELIZABETH. 

THE  iking  sleeps.  Let  him  sleep  on ! 
He  is  old  and  feeble,  and  God  has 
severely  punished  the  restless  tyrant — 
the  man  with  the  vacillating,  uneasy, 
ne'er-contented  mind — by  laying  fetters 
on  his  body,  and  making  of  that  body  a 
prison  for  his  mind  ;  by  making  the  am- 
bitious king,  striving  to  attain  the  im- 
measurable, the  slave  of  his  own  flesh. 
How  high  soever  his  thoughts  may  soar, 
the  king  still  remains  an  unwieldy,  pow- 
erless bondsman — a  human  child;  how- 
ever much  his  conscience  may  torment 
him  with  disquietude  and  anxiety,  he  is 
doomed  to  endure  it  all — he  cannot  fly 
from  his  conscience ;  God  has  imposed 
fetters  on  body  and  mind  alike. 

The  king  sleeps  1  But  not  so  the 
queen — not  so  Jane  Douglas — and  not 
so  even  the  princess  Elizabeth. 

She  was  awake,  and  her  heart  was 
throbbing  violently.  She  had  been 
walking  up  and  down  her  room  restless- 


ly, and  with  a  strange  feeling  of  em  bar- 
rassment,  waiting  for  the  hour  which 
she  had  appointed  for  the  rendezvous. 
And  now  this  hour  had  arrived.  A 
glowing  crimson  suffused  the  counte- 
nance of  the  youthful  princess,  and  her 
hand  trembled  as  she  took  the  light  and 
opened  the  secret  door  leading  into  the 
corridor.  For  a  moment  she  lingered 
and  stood  still,  and  then,  as  if  ashamed 
of  her  irresolution,  she  proceeded  along 
the  corridor,  and  up  the  narrow  stair- 
case which  led  into  the  tower-chamber. 
"With  a  hasty  movement  she  pushed  the 
door  open  and  entered  the  room.  She 
had  reached  the  goal,  and  Thomas  Sey- 
mour was  already  there. 

On  seeing  him  she  was  seized  with 
an  involuntary  fear,  and  now  for  the 
first  time  she  became  conscious  of  the 
venturesome  step  she  had  taken. 

When  Seymour,  the  gay  and  ardent 
man,  approached  her  with  an  impassion- 
ed greeting,  she  drew  back  timidly,  and 
recoiled  from  his  touch. 

"What!  you  will  not  allow  me  to 
kiss  your  hand  ? "  he  asked,  and  she 
thought  she  perceived  on  his  counte- 
nance a  faint  smile  of  derision.  "  You 
make  me  the  happiest  of  mortals  by  in- 
viting me  to  this  interview,  and  now 
you  stand  coldly  and  rigidly  before  me, 
and  I  dare  not  even  fold  you  in  my 
arms,  Elizabeth  ? " 

Elizabeth !  He  had  addressed  her  by 
her  Christian  name,  without  her  having 
given  him  permission  to  do  so.  This 
offended  her  in  the  midst  of  her  confu- 
sion, this  roused  up  within  her  the  pride 
of  the  princess,  and  gave  her  to  under- 


THE   PRINCESS  ELIZABETH. 


143 


stand  how  greatly  she  must  have  forgot- 
ten what  was  due  to  her  own  dignity, 
when  others  could  so  readily  forget  it. 

This  tribute,  however,  she  wished  to 
recover  once  more.  She  would  at  this 
moment  have  forfeited  a  year  of  her  life, 
not  to  have  taken  this  step — not  to  have 
invited  the  earl  to  this  interview. 

She  wished  to  try  and  recover  in  his 
eyes  the  position  which  she  had  lost, 
and  again  to  assume  toward  him  the 
dignity  and  demeanor  of  a  princess. 

Her  pride  was  still  more  powerful 
than  her  love.  She  imagined  that  her 
lover  should  at  the  same  time  bow  be- 
fore her,  as  her  favored  servant. 

"My  Lord  Thomas  Seymour,"  she 
said,  gravely,  "  you  have  often  requested 
us  for  a  private  interview,  we  now  grant 
it.  Speak  therefore  !  What  petition  or 
matter  have  you  to  lay  before  us  ?  " 

And  with  a  solemn  and  imposing  air 
she  proceeded  to  an  arm-chair,  in  which 
she  seated  herself  with  the  grave  digni- 
ty of  a  queen,  giving  audience  to  her 
vassals. 

Poor  innocent  child !  who  with  un- 
conscious fear  -wished  to  entrench  her- 
self behind  her  elevated  rank  as  behind 
a  shield,  which  should  hide  her  anxiety 
and  maidenly  timidity. 

Thomas  Seymour,  however,  saw 
through  all  this, .  and  his  proud,  cold 
heart  revolted  against  it,  on  perceiving 
that  this  child  in  years  attempted  to  set 
him  at  defiance. 

He  wished  to  humble  her— to  compel 
her  to  bend  before  him,  and  to  sue  for 
his  love  as  for  a  favored  gift. 

He  thoreforo  bowed  profoundly  to  the 


princess,  and  said,  with  a  respectful  air : 
"  Your  highness,  it  is  true  I  have  often 
begged  you  for  an  audience,  but  you 
have  so  long  refused  it  to  me,  that  at 
last  I  had  not  the  courage  to  urge  ray 
request  any  further,  and  so  I  imposed 
silence  on  my  wishes,  and  suffered  my 
heart  to  become  mute.  Seek  not,  there- 
fore, now,  that  these  pains  have  been 
overcome,  to  call  them  into  being  once 
more.  My  lips  shall  be  sealed — my 
heart  dead.  You  have  so  willed  it,  and 
I  have  bowed  submissively  to  your  will. 
Farewell,  therefore,  princess,  and  may 
your  days  be  more  happy,  more  serene, 
than  those  of  the  unfortunate  Thomas 
Seymour. 

He  then  bowed  profoundly  once  more, 
and  proceeded  slowly  toward  the  door. 
He  had  already  opened  it,  and  was 
about  to  depart,  when  a  hand  touched 
him  on  the  shoulder  and  drew  him  back 
into  the  room  with  violent  impetuosity. 

u  You  wish  to  go  ?  "  asked  Elizabeth, 
with  trembling  voice,  while  she  gasped 
for  breath.  "You  wish  to  leave  me, 
and  with  mockery  on  your  lips,  to  go, 
perhaps,  to  the  Duchess  of  Richmond, 
whom  you  love,  and  tell  her,  with  deri- 
sive laughter,  that  the  Princess  Eliza- 
beth granted  you  an  interview,  and  that 
you  treated  it  with  scorn  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  love  the  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond !  "  said  the  earl,  gravely.  • 

"  But  she  will  soon  be  your  wife." 

"  She  will  never  be  my  wife !  " 

"And  why  not?" 

"Because  I  don't  love  her,  princess! " 

A  beam  of  joy  overspread  Elizabeth's 
pale  and  troubled  countenance. 


144: 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


"  "Why  do  you  call  me  princess  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"Because  you  have  come  as  a  prin- 
cess to  grant  your  poor  servant  an  audi- 
ence. Indeed  it  would  be  abusing  your 
princely  favor  too  much,  were  I  to  pro- 
long this  audience  still  further.  I  there- 
fore retire,  princess." 

And  once  more  he  approached  the 
door;  but  Elizabeth  rushed  after  him, 
and  seizing  his  arms  with  both  her 
hands,  she  pushed  him  back  wildly. 

Her  eyes  flashed,  her  lips  trembled, 
and  a  passionate  ardor  glowed  visibly 
in  her  whole  frame.  She  was  now  the 
veritable  daughter  of  her  father ; — indis- 
creet and  vehement  in  her  anger — crush- 
ing in  her  fury. 

"  You  shall  not  go,"  she  murmured, 
with  firmly  compressed  teeth.  "I 
will  not  suffer  you  to  go !  I  won't  suf- 
fer you  to  stand  before  me  any  longer 
with  that  cold,  smiling  countenance. 
Chide  me — reproach  me  in  the  severest 
manner  for  having  so  long  attempted  to 
defy  you ;  execrate  me  if  you  can.  Only 
not  this  smiling  composure.  This  kills 
me,  it  stabs  me  like  a  dagger  to  the 
heart.  For  thou  seest  clearly  I  have  no 
longer  the  power  to  resist  thee — thou 
seest1  clearly  that  I  love  thee.  Yes,  I 
love  thee  with  rapture  and  desperation, 
with  delight  and  bewilderment !  I  love 
thee  as  rny  demon  and  my  angel.  I  am 
angry  with  thee  for  having  so  complete- 
ly subdued  the  pride  of  my  spirit ;  I  ex- 
ecrate thee  for  having  made  me  so  en- 
tirely thy  slave,  and,  at  the  next  mo- 
ment, I  fall  upon  my  knees  before  God, 
and  beseech  him  to  forgive  me  these  in- 


solent and  wicked  thoughts  to  thy  pre- 
judice. I  love  thee,  I  say — not  as  those 
mild,  gentle  women  love,  with  a  smile 
upon  their  lips — but  with  rage  and  des- 
peration, with  jealousy  and  anger.  I 
love  thee  as  my  father  loved  Anne  Bul- 
len,  when,  in  the  hatred  of  his  love,  and 
in  the  cruel  anger  of  his  jealousy,  he 
caused  her  to  mount  the  scaffold,  be- 
cause he  had  been  told  that  she  was  un- 
faithful to  him.  Ah,  had  I  the  power,  I 
would  do  as  my  father  did.  I  would 
kill  you  were  you  to  be  so  daring  as  to 
cease  to  love  me.  And,  now,  Thomas 
Seymour,  say  now,  if  you  have  the 
courage  to  wish  to  leave  me  ? " 

She  wore  a  look  of  perfect  fascination 
in  this  fiery  force  of  her  passion, — she 
was  so  young,  so  ardent;  and  Thomas 
Seymour  was  so  ambitious.  In  his  eyes 
Elizabeth  was  not  only  the  beautiful  and 
attractive  maiden  who  loved  him ;  she 
was  more  than  that: — she  was  the 
daughter  of  Henry  the  Eighth ;  the  Prin- 
cess of  England,  and  would,  perhaps  one 
day,  become  heiress  to  the  throne*  Her 
father,  indeed  had  disinherited  her,  and 
by  means  of  an  Act  of  Parliament  had 
declared  her  unworthy  of  succeeding  to 
the  crown.  But  Henry's  vacillating 
mind  might  change,  and  the  rejected 
princess  might  one  day  become  queen. 

This  thought  occupied  the  Earl's  mind 
as  he  looked  at  Elizabeth,  as  he  contem- 
plated her,  so  blooming  and  so  attractive, 
glowing  with  passion  as  she  stood  before 
him.  This  thought  filled  his  mind  as  he 
now  folded  her  in  his  arms,  and  imprinted 
an  ardent  kiss  upon  her  lips. 

"No,  I  shall  not  go,"  he  whispered. 


THE  PRIXCESS  ELIZABETH. 


145 


"  I  shall  never  more  wander  from  thy 
side,  unless  it  be  thy  wish  that  I  should 
go.  I  am  thine !  Thy  slave,  thy  vassal 
— to  he  such,  and  nothing  more  is  my 
sole  wish.  Let  them  betray  me  if  they 
will,  let  the  king  punish  me  as  a  traitor, 
I  shall  still  exult  with  happiness,  for 
Elizabeth  loves  me,  and  it  will  be  for 
Elizabeth's  sake  that  I  shall  die ! " 

"Thou  shalt  not  die!"  she  exclaimed, 
clinging  firmly  to  his  side.  "  Thou  shalt 
live,  proud,  great,  and  happy  with  me ! 
Thou  shalt  be  my  lord  and  master,  and 
should  I  one  day  be  a  queen — and  I  feel 
within  me  that  I  shall  be  a  queen — then 
Thomas  Seymour  will  be  King  of  Eng- 
land." 

"  That  is  to  say,  in  the  quiet  and  pri- 
vacy of  thy  chamber  it  would  probably 
be  so!"  he  returned  with  a  sigh.  "But 
in  public,  and  before  the  world,  I  shall 
still  be  merely  a  subject  and  servant — 
nay,  I  may  even  be  called  a  favorite." 

"  Never — never,  that  I  swear  to  thee! 
Did  I  not  tell  thee  that  I  loved  thee  ?  " 

"  But  the  love  of  women  is  so  change- 
able. Who  knows,  when  once  the  crown 
decks  thy  brow,  how  long  thou  wilt  al- 
ready have  trodden  the  unhappy  Thomas 
Seymour  under  foot? " 

She  looked  at  him  with  astonishment. 

"  Can  such  a  tiling  be  ?  Is  it  possible 
that  one  should  forget  and  abandon  what 
one  has  at  any  time  loved?  " 

"Don't  ask,  Elizabeth  !  Has  not  thy 
father  alrocidy  hi>  sixth  wife?  " 

"True,"  she  replied,  and  she  bent  her 

head  sadly  on  her  breast ;  "  but  I,"  she 

continued,  -after  a  pause,  "  I  shall  not 

resemble  my  father  in  this.     I  shall  love 

10 


thee  eternally  !  And  in  order  that  thou 
mayest  have  a  pledge  of  my  fidelity,  I 
tender  myself  to  be  thy  wife." 

He  looked  inquiringly  and  with  aston- 
ishment into  her  excited  and  glowing 
countenance.  He  did  not  understand 
her. 

She,  however,  continued  with  impas- 
sioned earnestness  :  "  Yes  thou  shalt  be 
my  lord  and  my  husband !  Come,  my 
beloved,  come  !  I  have  not  summoned 
thee  in  order  that  thou  shouldst  assume 
the  ignominious  part  of  being  the  secret 
lover  of  a  princess.  I  have  summoned 
thee  that  thou  mayest  become  my 
spouse.  I  wish  that  a  bond  should 
unite  us  both — a  bond  so  indissoluble 
that  neither  the  anger  nor  the  will  of 
my  father — but  only  death  itself  may  be 
able  to  rend  it  asunder.  I  will  give 
thee  a  proof  of  my  love  and  resignation, 
and  then  thou  wilt  see  how  truly  I  love 
thee.  Come,  my  beloved — that  I  may 
soon  be  able  to  greet  thee  as  my  hus- 
band ! " 

He  looked  at  her  as  if  petrified. 
"Whither  wouldst  thou  lead  me?" 

"Into  the  private  chapel  of  the  pal- 
ace," she  replied  innocently.  "I  have 
written  to  Cranmer  to  wait  for  me  there 
at  day-break.  Let  us  therefore  make 
haste!" 

-"Cranmer!  written  to  Archbishop 
Cranmer  ?  "  cried  Seymour  with  amaze- 
ment. "  What !  Cranmer  waiting  for  us 
in  the  private  chapel?" 

"  No  doubt — since  I  have  written  to 
him  to  that  effect?" 

"  But  what  is  he  to  do?— What  service 
can  he  render  us?  " 


H-0 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT 


She  looked  at  him  with  surprise. 
"  What  service  can  he  render  us  ?  Why 
marry  us,  of  course !  " 

The  earl  staggered  hack  as  if  stunned. 
"  And  hast  thou  told  him  that  too?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly  not,"  she  replied  with 
a  charming  and  innocent  smile.  "I 
know  very  well  it  is  dangerous  to  trust 
such  secrets  to  paper.  I  have  only  writ- 
ten to  him  to  come  in  his  robes  of  office, 
because  I  have  important  secrets  to  con- 
fess to  him." 

"  Oh,  God  be  thanked !  We  are  not 
lost,"  sighed  the  earl. 

"What,  I  don't  understand  thee?" 
she  asked.  u  Thou  dost  not  give  me  thy 
hand  ?  thou  dost  not  hasten  to  conduct 
me  to  the  chapel  ? " 

"  Tell  me,  I  entreat  thee,  only  tell  me 
this  one  thing.  Hast  thou  ever  spoken 
to  the  archbishop  of  thy— no — of  our 
love?  Hast  thou  ever  betrayed  to  him 
a  syllable  of  that  which  moves  our 
hearts?" 

She  blushed  deeply  beneath  the  keen 
penetrating  glance  which  he  fixed  upon 
her.  "  Chide  me,  Seymour,"  she  whis- 
pered. "  But  my  heart  was  feeble  and 
timorous,  and  however  often  I  made  the 
attempt  to  fulfil  the  sacred  duty,  and  to 
confess  all  faithfully  and  without  re- 
serve to  the  archbishop,  I  was  never 
once  able  to  succeed !  The  words  died 
upon  my  lips,  and  it  seemed  as  if  an 
invisible  power  paralysed  my  tongue." 

"Then  Cranmer  knows  nothing?  " 

"  No,  Seymour,  as  yet  he  knows  noth- 
ing !  But  now  he  shall  learn  all ;  we 
will  now  go  before  him  and  tell  him  that 
we  love  each  other,  and  urge  him  by  our 


entreaties  to  bless  our  union  and  to  join 
our  hands  together." 

"  Impossible !  "  cried  Seymour.  "  That 
can  never  be  done  !  " 

"But,  gracious  heavens!  why  not?" 
she  asked  with  astonishment. 

"  I  say  that  Cranmer  will  never  be  so 
.mad,  so  guilty  as  to  fulfil  thy  wish.  I 
say  that  thou  canst  never  become  my 
wife." 

For  a  moment  she  scanned  his  fea- 
tures with  looks  of  anxious  bewilder- 
ment. "  But  hast  thou  not  just  told  me 
that  thou  lovest  me  ? "  she  asked. 
"  Have  I  not  sworn  to  thee  that  I  love 
thee  in  return  ?  Must  we  not,  therefore, 
espouse  each  other  in  order  to  sanctify 
the  union  of  our  hearts  ? " 

Seymour  cast  his  eyes  to  the  ground, 
and  blushed  with  shame  before  her 
pure  innocent  looks.  She  did  not  un- 
derstand his  blushes.  She  interpreted 
his  silence  as  a  sign  that  he  was  con- 
quered. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  Cranmer  awaits 
us!" 

He  raised  his  eyes  once  more,  and 
looked  at  her  amazed.  "  Then  thou 
dost  not  perceive  that  all  this  is  but  a 
dream,  which  can  never  become  a  reali- 
ty? Thou  dost  not  perceive  that  this 
precious  fantasy  of  thy  noble  and  gener- 
ous heart  will  never  be  realised  ?  What  ? 
Knowest  thou  so  little  of  thy  father,  as 
not  to  be  aware  that  he  would  crush  us 
both,  did  we  thus  dare  to  defy  his  pater- 
nal and  royal  authority?  Thy  birth 
would  not  secure  thee  from  his  rage,  for 
thou  knowest  well  he  is  inflexible  and 
devoid  of  consideration  in  his  anger ;  and 


THE   PRINCESS  ELIZABETH. 


147 


the  voice  of  Nature  does  not  speak  so 
loudly  within  him  as  not  to  be  overpow- 
ered by  the  thunder  of  his  indignation 
and  wrath.  Poor  child,  thou  hast  learn- 
ed this  already  !  Remember  with  what 
relentlessness  he  has  already  revenged 
upon  thee  the  supposed  guilt  of  thy  moth- 
er— how  he  has  carried  out  towards 
thee  his  vindictive  feelings  against  her. 
Remember  that  he  refused  thy  hand  to 
the  Dauphin  of  France — not  for  the  sake 
of  thy  happiness,  but  because  he  said 
thou  wast  not  worthy  of  such  a  lofty  po- 
sition. The  illegitimate  daughter  of 
Anne  Bullen  could  never  become  the 
Queen  of  France.  And  after  such  proofs 
of  his  fierce  anger  against  thee,  wilt  thou 
venture  to  fling  this  fearful  insult  in  his 
face?  To  compel  him  to  recognize  his 
subject — his  servant,  as  his  son  ?  " 

"  Oh,  but  this  servant  is  meanwhile 
the  brother  of  a  Queen  of  England,"  she 
returned,  timidly.  "  My  father  loved 
Jane  Seymour  too  tenderly  not  to  par- 
don her  brother." 

"  Alas !  thou  knowest  not  thy  father ! 
lie  has  no  feelings  for  the  past,  or  if  he 
has,  it  is  only  to  punish  an  offence  or 
a  crime,  but  not  to  reward  affection. 
King  Henry  would  be  quite  capable  of 
condemning  to  death  the  daughter  of 
Anne  Bullen,  and  of  sending  the  brothers 
of  Katharine  Howard  to  the  scaffold  or 
to  the  rack,  because  both  these  queens 
once  grieved  him  and  wounded  his 
heart ;  but  he  would  not  forgive  in  me 
even  the  slightest  offence,  merely  be- 
cause I  am  the  brother  of  a  queen  who 
loved  him  truly  and  tenderly  to  the  day 
of  her  death.  But  I  am  not  now  speak- 


ing of  myself.  I  am  a  warrior,  and  both 
by  sea  and  land  I  have  looked  death  too 
often  in  the  face  to  fear  it  now.  I  only 
speak  of  thee,  Elizabeth  !  It  is  not  thus 
that  thou  must  perish.  This  noble  head 
shall  not  be  laid  upon  the  block.  It  is 
destined  to  bear  a  royal  crown.  A  still 
higher  fate  than  that  of  love  Awaits  thee 
— power  and  fame  I  I  dare  not  with- 
draw thee  from  this  proud  future.  The 
Princess  Elizabeth,  though  now  rejected 
and  scorned,  may  still  one  day  mount 
the  throne  of  England.  The  Countess 
of  Seymour — never !  she  disinherits  her- 
self. Pursue,  therefore,  your  high  des- 
tiny. Lord  Seymour  gives  way  before 
a  throne." 

"  That  is  to  say,  you  spurn  me  ?  "  she 
asked,  angrily,  stamping  with  her  foot 
upon  the  floor.  "That. is  to  say,  the 
proud  Earl  of  Sudley  thinks  the  de- 
graded daughter  of  Anne  Bullen  too 
mean  for  his  lordly  coronet !  In  other 
words,  you  do  not  love  me !  " 

"  No.  It  means  that  I  love  thee  more 
than  I  do  myself— more  deeply,  more 
purely  than  any  other  man  can  love 
thee;  for  this  love  is  so  great  that  it 
imposes  silence  on  my  selfishness  and 
ambition,  and  only  suffers  me  to  think 
of  thee  and  of  thy  future." 

"Alas!"  she  sighed,  sadly,  "didst 
thou  love  me  truly,  thou  wouldst  not 
thus  consider;  thou  wouldst  not  see 
danger  or  fear  death.  Thou  wouldst 
think  of  nothing — know  nothing — but 
love." 

"  Because  I  think  of  love,  I  think  of 
thee,"  replied  Seymour.  "  I  think  that 
thou  shouldst  go  forth  great,  powerful, 


148 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


and  radiant  in  an  elevated  sphere,  and 
that  to  this  end  I  am  willing  to  lend 
thee  my  arm.  I  think  that  my  queen 
of  the  future  needs  a  general  who  shall 
win  for  her  the  victory,  and  that  I  am 
ready  to  be  that  general.  But  when 
this  goal  is  attained,  when  thou  art 
queen,  then,  thou  wilt  have  the  power  to 
make  of  thy  subject  thy  husband — then 
will  it  depend  upon  thy  will  to  raise  me 
up  to  become  the  proudest,  the  happiest, 
and  the  most  enviable  of  men.  Then 
shouldst  thou  offer  me  thy  hand,  I  shall 
praise  and  thank  God  that  He  has  so  fa- 
vored me,  and  my  whole  existence  will 
be  spent  in  the  endeavor  to  afford  thee 
that  happiness  which  thou  art  so  fully 
justified  in  demanding." 

"  And  until  then  ?  "  she  asked,  sadly. 

"Until  then  we  will  wait  and  love 
each  other  I  "  he  exclaimed,  folding  her 
affectionately  in  his  arms. 

She  gently  repressed  his  ardor.  "  And 
wilt  thou  be  true  and  constant  to  me 
until  then  ? " 

"  True  and  constant  until  death !  " 

"They  have  told  me  that  thou 
wouldst  be  married  to  the  Duchess  of 
Kichmond,  in  order  thereby  at  length  to 
end  the  animosity  between  the  Howards 
and  the  Seymours." 

Thomas  Seymour  knit  his  brow,  and 
his  countenance  grew  dark.  "  Believe 
me,  this  hatred  is  invincible,  and  no 
bonds  of  affinity  could  have  power  to 
efface  it.  It  is  an  inheritance  of  long 
standing  between  our  families,  and  I  am 
firmly  resolved  not  to  renounce  this  in- 
heritance. I  shall  just  as  little  marry 
the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  as  Henry 


Howard  my  sister  the  Countess  of 
Shrewsbury." 

"  Swear  this,  Seymour !  swear  to  me 
that  thou  sayest  the  truth,  and  that  the 
haughty  coquette,  the  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond, shall  never  be  thy  wife.  Swear 
this  to  me  now  by  all  that  is  sacred  to 
thee!" 

"  I  swear  it  by  my  LOVE  I  "  cried 
Thomas  Seymour,  solemnly. 

"  Then  I  shall  have  at  least  one  care 
the  less,"  sighed  Elizabeth.  "I  shall 
have  no  need  to  be  jealous.  And  be- 
sides, we  shall  see  each  other  often — 
shall  we  not?  We  shall  both  of  us 
faithfully  and  sacredly  preserve  the  se- 
cret of  this  tower,  and  for  days  full  of 
illusions  and  privation  we  shall  here 
celebrate  nights  of  blissful  enjoyment 
and  sweet  delight.  But  why  dost  thoa 
smile,  Seymour  ? " 

"I  smile  because  thou  art  so  pure 
and  innocent,  like  an  angel,"  he  replied, 
taking  her  hand,  which  he  kissed  re- 
spectfully. "  I  smile  because  thou  art  a 
noble  and  divine  child,  whom  one  should 
worship  on  his  knees,  and  to  whom  we 
should  pray  as  to  the  chaste  goddess 
Yesta  !  Yes,  my  charming  and  beloved 
child,  we  will  here,  as  thou  sayest,  live 
many  nights  of  blissful  enjoyment,  and 
may  I  become  a  reprobate  and  a  casta- 
way, should  I  ever  be  capable  of  betray- 
ing this  sweet  and  innocent  confidence 
which  thou  reposest  in  me,  or  of  dim- 
ming the  brightness  of  thy  angelic  puri- 
ty!" 

"Oh,  we  shall  be  very  happy,  Sey- 
mour," she  said,  smiling.  "  But  one 
thing  I  lack — a  friend  of  my  own  sex  to 


THE  PRINCESS  ELIZABETH. 


149 


whom  I  could  confide  iny  happiness, 
and  to  whom  I  could  speak  of  thee.  I 
often  feel  as  if  this  love,  which  must  be 
kept  concealed  and  locked  up,  would  at 
last  cause  my  bosom  to  burst  asunder — 
as  if  this  secret  must  find  an  outlet  for 
itself  by  violence,  and  sweep  forth  like 
a  hurricane  over  the  whole  face  of  na- 
ture. Seymour,  I  want  a  confidante  of 
my  happiness  and  of  my  love." 

"  On  the  contrary,  be  most  careful  to 
avoid  such  a  thing !  "  cried  Seymour, 
with  anxiety.  "A  secret  which  is 
known  to  thf  ee  persons  is  no  longer  a 
secret,  and  thy  confidante  would  one 
day  betray  us." 

:<  Nay,  I  know  a  lady  who  would  not 
be  capable  of  so  acting — a  lady  who 
loves  me  well  enough  to  keep  my  secret 
as  faithfully  as  I  could  myself — a  lady 
who  could  be  more  than  the  confidante 
— who  could  even  be  the  protectress  of 
our  love.  Oh,  believe  me,  if  we  could 
but  win  her  to  our  side,  then  would  our 
future  be  blest  and  happy,  for  then  we 
might  the  more  readily  succeed  in  ob- 
taining the  consent  of  the  king  to  our 
marriage." 

"And  who  is  this  lady?" 

"  It  is  the  queen." 

"  The  queen !  "  cried  Thomas  Sey- 
mour, with  a  look  of  such  consternation 
that  Elizabeth  trembled;  "the  queen 
thy  confidante  ?  Impossible !  that  would 
be  to  bring  hopeless  ruin  upon  us  both. 
Unhappy  child,  take  good  care  not  to 
mention  a  word  to  her  or  even  a  syllable 
of  thy  relationship  with  me — beware  of 
betraying  to  her  by  the  slightest  intima- 
tion that  Thomas  Seymour  is  not  wholly 


indifferent  to  thee !  Ah,  her  anger  would 
crush  both  thee  and  me  1  " 

"  And  why  dost  thou  think  so  ? " 
asked  Elizabeth,  gloomily.  "  Why  dost 
thou  suppose  that  Katharine  would 
foam  with  anger  because  Lord  Seymour 
loves  me?  Or  what! — Is  it  she  perad- 
venture  whom  thou  lovest,  and  there- 
fore darest  not  confess  to  her  that  thon 
hast  pledged  thy  love  to  me  also  ?  Ah, 
I  now  see  through  all — I  know  all! 
Thou  lovest  the  queen,  and  her  alone ! 
For  this  reason  thou  art  unwilling  to  go 
with  me  into  the  chapel ;  for  this  reason 
thou  hast,  sworn  that  thou  dost  not  wish 
to  marry  the  Duchess  of  Richmond,  and 
for  this  reason — ah,  my  forebodings  did 
not  deceive  me — for  this  reason  too  that 
frantic  ride  on  horseback  yesterday  in 
Epping  Forest!  Ah,  of  course  the 
queen's  courser  must  needs  become  res- 
tive, and  take  flight  in  order  that  the 
master  of  the  horse  should  be  able  to 
follow  his  mistress  and  lose  himself  with 
her  in  the  secluded  thickets  of  the  wood ! 
— And  now,"  she  continued,  with  anger- 
flashing  eyes,  while  she  raised  her  hand 
threateningly  aloft,  "now  I  say  to  thee. 
Beware!  Beware,  Seymour,  of  betray- 
ing thy  secret  by  a  word,  or  even  by  a 
syllable,  for  this  word  will  crush  thee, 
Yes,  I  feel  that  I  am  no  base-born  child 
—but  the  true  daughter  of  my  father;  I 
feel  it  by  this  anger, — this  jealousy 
which  rages  within  me.  Beware,  Sey- 
mour, for  I  shall  go  hence  to  accuse  thee 
to  the  king,  and  the  head  of  the  traitor 
will  fall  upon  the  scaffold  !  " 

She  was  beside  herself.  She  strode 
with  clinched  hands  and  threatening 


150 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


gestures  up  and  down  the  room.  Tears 
burst  from  her  eyes,  but  she  dashed 
them  away  from  her  eyelids,  and  sprin- 
kled them  like  pearls  around  her.  The 
violent  and  ungovernable  nature  of  her 
father  strove  within  her,  and  her  blood 
foamed  furiously  in  her  veins. 

But  Thomas  Seymour  had  already  re- 
gained his  composure  and  presence  of 
mind.  He  approached  the  princess  and 
folded  the  resisting  girl  in  his  powerful 
arms. 

'•Foolish  charmer!"  he  said,  with 
many  tender  kisses.  "  Sweet,  silly 
charmer,  how  beautiful  thou  art  in  thy 
anger,-  and  how  I  love  thee  for  it! 
Jealousy  befits  love,  and  I  don't  com- 
plain of  it,  albeit  thou  hast  been  unjust 
and  cruel  toward  me.  The  queen  has 
much  too  cold  and  too  proud  a  heart  for 
any  one  ever  to  love  her.  Indeed,  the 
very  thought  of  such  a  thing  would  be 
treason  against  her  honor  and  virtue, 
and  certainly  she  has  not  deserved,  of 
either  of  us,  that  we  should  slander  or 
insult  her.  She  is  the  first  person  who 
was  ever  just  toward  thee,  and  to  me 
ghe  has  always  been  only  a  gracious 
queen  and  mistress." 

"  True,"  murmured  Elizabeth,  asham- 
ed of  her  suspicion,  "  she  is  to  me  a  true 
friend  and  mother,  and  to  her  I  owe  my 
present  position  at  this  court." 

Then,  after  a  pause,  she  continued,  with 
a  smile,  while  she  held  out  her  hand  to 
the  earl:  "Thou  art  right,  it  was  a 
crime  to  distrust  her,  and  I  am  a  foolish 
creature.  Forget  it,  Seymour,  forget 
my  wayward  and  childish  anger,  and  I 
promise  thee  in  return  to  betray  our 


secret  to  nobody — not  even  to  the 
queen !  " 

"  Thou  wilt  swear  that  to  me  ?  " 

"Yes.  I  swear  it  to  thee.  And  I 
swear  to  thee  more  than  that:  I  will 
never  more  be  jealous  of  her." 

"  Then  thou  only  dost  justice  to  thy- 
self and  also  to  the  queen,"  said  the 
earl,  smiling,  while  he  once  more  em- 
braced her. 

But  she  gently  checked  his  ardor. 
"I  must  now  away.  The  day  dawns, 
and  the  archbishop  is  waiting  for  me  in 
the  chapel." 

"  And  what  wilt  thou  say  to  him,  be- 
loved?" 

"I  shall  confess  to  him !" 

"What?  betray  our  love  to  him  ?  '7 

"Oh,  no,"  she  replied,  with  an  en- 
chanting smile,  "that  is  a  secret  be- 
tween God  and  ourselves,  and  it  is  to 
Him  alone  that  we  can  confess  it,  as  He 
alone  can  absolve  us  from  what  it  im- 
plies. Adieu,  then,  my  Seymour,  adieu, 
and  think  of  me  till  we  meet  again. 
But  when,  say  when,  shall  we  meet 
again?" 

"  When  it  is  such  a  night  as  the  one 
just  passed,  beloved, — when  the  moon 
appears  not  in  the  sky." 

"  Oh,  then  I  wish  we  had  a  change 
of  the  moon  every  week  !  "  she  returned, 
with  the  charming  innocence  of  a  child. 
"  Farewell,  Seymour,  farewell,  we  must 
part." 

She  clung  caressingly  for  a  moment 
to  his  tall,  robust  form,  as  the  woodbine 
twines  round  •  the  sturdy  oak.  And 
then  they  separated.  The  princess  gli- 
ded softly  and  unperoeived  once  more 


THE  PRINCESS  ELIZABETH. 


151 


back  to  her  apartment,  and  thence  into 
the  private  chapel;  the  earl  again  de- 
scended the  winding  stairs  which  led  to 
the  private  garden  door. 

Unobserved  and  unseen  he  returned 
to  his  mansion ;  even  his  chamberlain, 
who  slept  in  the  anteroom,  did  not  per- 
ceive how  the  earl  crept  softly  along  on 
tiptoe  beside  him,  and  retired  to  his  bed- 
room. 

But  no  sleep  came  to  his  eyes  for  the  re- 
mainder of  this  night,  and  his  soul  was 
troubled  and  full  of  wild  commotion. 
He  was  angry  with  himself,  and  accused 
himself  of  treachery  and  faithlessness; 
and  then  again,  full  of  arrogant  pride, 
he  sought  to  excuse  himself,  aad  to 
bring  his  conscience,  which  sat  in  judg- 
ment upon  him,  to  silence. 

"  I  love  her — her  alone,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "Katharine  possesses  my 
heart,  my  soul — to  her  I  am  ready  to 
devote  my  whole  life.  Yes,  I  love  her ! 
I  have  sworn  it  to  her  to-day,  and  she  is 
mine  for  all  eternity !  " 

"And  Elizabeth?"  asked  his  con- 
science. "  Hast  thou  not  sworn  love 
and  fidelity  to  her  also?" 

"  No !  "  he  replied.  "  I  have  only  ac- 
cepted her  vows,  I  did  not  return  them; 
and  when  I  promised  not  to  wed  the 
Duchess  of  Richmond,  and  when  I  swore 
tins  to  her  '  by  my  love,'  I  then  only 
thought  of  Katharine,  the  proud,  beauti- 
ful, and  bewitching  woman,  whose 
charms  HIV  at  once  maidenly  and  volup- 
tuous— not  of  the  young,  inexperienced, 
and  untamed  child — the  unattractive  lit- 
tle princess !  " 

"  But  this  princess  may  one  day  be- 


come a  queen,"  whispered  his  ambi- 
tion. 

"That is  nevertheless  very  doubtful," 
he  answered  to  himself.  "  Certain  it  is, 
however,  that  Katharine  will  one  day  be 
regent,  and  then,  should  I  be  her  hus- 
band, I  am  of  course  the  Regent  of  Eng- 
land." 

This  was  the  secret  of  his  double- 
dealing  and  his  twofold  treachery. 
Thomas  Seymour  loved  nothing  but 
himself — nothing  but  his  ambition.  He 
would  have  been  ready  at  any  time  to 
risk  his  life  for  a  woman,  but  this  wo- 
man he  would  have  sacrificed  cheerfully 
for  the  sake  of  power  and  fame. 

For  him  there  was  but  one  goal,  one 
object  in  life — to  be  the  first  man  in 
England— high  and  mighty  above  all  the 
magnates  of  the  land.  To  reach  this 
goal  he  would  have  spared  no  means — 
would  have  shrunk  back  from  no  treach- 
ery, from  no  sin. 

"With  the  disciples  of  Loyola,  he  said 
to  himself  by  way  of  exculpation,  "  The 
end  sanctifies  the  means."  And  there- 
fore to  him  every  means  was  just  which 
could  lead  him  to  his  end — that  is  to 
say,  to  dignity  and  splendor. 

He  was  firmly  persuaded  that  he 
loved  the  queen  ardently,  and  in  his  better 
moods  he  really  did  love  her.  But  whol- 
ly a  creature  of  the  hour,  and  the  slave 
of  impulse,  his  sensibilities  and  his  will 
changed  place  with  lightning  speed,  and 
he  was  evermore  that  which  the  ca- 
price or  the  fancy  of  the  moment  sug- 
gested. 

Accordingly,  when  he  stood  before 
the  queen,  he  was  not  false  to  his  nature, 


152 


in  protesting  that  he  loved  her  passion- 
ately. He  loved  her  so  sincerely — with 
such  seeming  fervor — that  to  him  she 
had  become  identified  in  a  certain  man- 
ner with  his  ambition.  He  worshipped 
her  because  she  was  the  means  where- 
by he  might  be  able  to  attain  his  end — 
because  she  would  one  day  hold  in  her 
hands  the  sceptre  of  England.  And 
when  this  event  should  come  to  pass,  he 
was  desirous  of  being  found  her  lover 
and  her  lord.  As  her  lord  she  had  ac- 
cepted him,  and  he  was  now  quite  cer- 
tain of  enjoying  his  lordly  prerogatives 
at  some  future  period. 

He  therefore  loved  the  queen;  but 
his  proud  and  ambitious  heart  could 
never  be  so  wholly  engrossed  by  a  single 
passion  as  not  to  leave  room  still  in  it  for 
a  second — provided  that  this  second 
love  should  offer  a  favorable  chance  for 
the  attainment  of  the  great  object  of  his 
life. 

This  chance  the  Princess  Elizabeth 
possessed.  And  if  Katharine  must  cer- 
tainly one  day  become  the  Regent  of  Eng- 
land, yet  Elizabeth  might  perhaps  at  a 
subsequent  period  become  its  queen.  Un- 
doubtedly, up  to  the  present  moment 
every  thing  was  merely  contingent,  but 
then  such  measures  could  be  adopted 
as  would  make  of  this  contingency  a 
decided  reality.  Moreover,  this  young 
and  passionate  child  loved  him,  and 
Thomas  Seymour  himself  was  too 
young  and  too  susceptible  that  he  should 
be  able  to  spurn  a  love  which  offered  it- 
self to  him  with  such  alluring  prom- 
ises, and  with  splendid  visions  of  the 
future. 


HENRY  Till.  AND   HIS  COURT 

u  To  live  for  love  alone  befits 


man,"  said  he  to  himself,  as  he  now 
pondered  over  the  events  of  the  past 
night.  "He  must  labor  to  attain  the 
summit  of  his  hopes,  the  pinnacle  of  his 
wishes,  and  for  gaining  this  end  no  means 
can  be  left  unemployed.  Besides,  my 
heart  is  large  enough  to  enjoy  a  twofold 
love.  I  love  them  both.  Yes,  I  love 
both  these  beautiful  women  bearing  a 
crown  in ,  their  hands  to  anticipate  my 
wishes.  Let  Fate  determine  to  which 
of  them  both  I  shall  eventually  be- 
long! » 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HENET  HOWAED,    EAEL   OF    8UEEET. 

THE  court  festivity,  so  long  expected, 
was  at  length  to  take  place  to-day. 
The  knights  and  the  lords  were  prepar- 
ing for  the  tournaments — the  poets  and 
the  scholars  for  the  encounter  of  wit. 
For  the  gallant  and  learned  king  wished 
to  unite  both  classes  on  this  occasion  at 
the  festivity,  in  order  to  present  to  the 
world  the  rare  and  splendid  example  of 
a  king  who  claimed  for  himself  all  vir- 
tue and  all  wisdom,  who  was  equally 
great  as  a  warrior  and  a  divine — equally 
famous  as  a  poet,  a  philosopher,  and  a 
scholar. 

The  knights  were  to  enter  the  list  for 
the  honor  of  their  ladies ;  the  poets  were 
to  recite  their  verses ;  and  John  Hey- 
wood  was  to  have  his  merry  comedy 
performed; — nay,  even  the  great  schol- 
ars of  the  day  were  to  take  part  in  the 


HENRY  HOWARD,  EARL  OF  SURREY. 


153 


banquet;  for  the  king  had  expressly 
summoned  to  London  for  the  occasion 
his  former  instructor  in  the  Greek  lan- 
guage, the  great  scholar  Croke,  to 
whom  belongs  the  merit  of  having  been 
the  first  who  made  the  learned  world, 
as  well  in  Germany  as  in  England,  ac- 
quainted with  the  Greek  poets,  and  who 
was  at  that  time  a  professor  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Cambridge.  He  wished,  to- 
gether with  Croke,  to  represent  before  his 
astonished  court  a  few  scenes  from  Soph- 
ocles ;  and  if  indeed  there  were  none  of 
his  audience  who  understood  the  Greek 
tongue,  yet  all  must  doubtless  be  de- 
lighted with  the  exquisite  melody  of  the 
language,  and  with  the  wonderful  learn- 
ing of  the  king. 

On  every  side  preparations  were  go- 
ing forward :  some  were  decking  out 
their  minds — others  their  bodies. 

Henry  Howard,  too,  the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey, was  occupied  with  his  own  part, 
that  is  to  say,  lie  had  retired  to  his  cabi- 
net, and  was  busy  polishing  the  son- 
net which  he  intended  to  recite  this 
day,  and  in  which  he  celebrated  the 
grace  and  beauty  of  his  fair  Geraldine. 

He  held  the  paper  in  his  hand,  as  he 
reclined  upon  the  velvet-covered  otto- 
man which  stood  beside  his  writing- 
table. 

Could  Lady  Jane  Douglas  have  seen 
him  at  this  moment,  her  heart  would 
have  been  filled  with  a  painful  delight, 
j;t  perceiving  him  with  his  head  leaning 
back  on  the  cushions,  and  his  large  blue 
eyes  looking  heavenward  in  dreamy  con- 
templation ;  he  smiled  and  murmured 
some  tender  words. 


He  was  wholly  plunged  in  sweet  re- 
trospection ;  he  thought  of  those  raptur- 
ous— those  blissful  hours  which  but  a 
few  days  previously  he  had  enjoyed  with 
his  Geraldine;  and  while  he  thus 
mused,  he  worshipped  her  in  fancy,  and 
renewed  to  her  inwardly  his  vows  of 
unchanging  love  and  inviolable  con- 
stancy. 

His  enthusiastic  mind  was  wholly 
filled  with  a  sweet  melancholy,  and  he 
felt  himself  quite  intoxicated  by  the  en- 
trancing happiness  with  which  his  Ger- 
aldine had  endowed  him. 

She  was  his  own — at  length  his  own! 
After  so  many  long  and  painful  struggles 
— after  such  bitter  denial  and  such  sad 
resignation — Fortune  had  favored  him 
at  last :  his  pictured  visions  had  at 
length  become  a  reality.  Katharine 
loved  him — she  had  pledged  him  the 
most  sacred  vows  that  she  would  one 
day  become  his  spouse — that  she  would 
become  his  wife  in  the  eye  of  God  and 
man. 

But  when  would  come  that  day  on 
which  he  could  present  her  to  the  world 
as  his  wife  ?  When  would  she  be  at 
length  freed  from  the  burden  of  her 
royal  crown ;  when  would  those  golden 
chains  at  length  be  loosed  which  bound 
her  to  her  tyrannical  and  bloodthirsty 
husband — the  cruel,  the  arrogant  king  ? 

Strange  1  As  he  asked  himself  these 
questions  he  shuddered  inwardly,  and 
an  inexplicable  horror  crept  upon  his 
soul. 

He  felt  as  if  a  voice  whispered  in 
his  ear:  "Thou  wilt  never  live  to  see 
this  dayl  The  king,  however  old  he 


154 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


is,  will  yet  outlive  thee!  Prepare  to 
die.  for  death  is  already  at  thy  door !  " 

And  it  was  not  the  first  time  that  he 
had  heard  this  voice.  It  had  ere  this 
often  spoken  to  him,  and  always  with 
the  same  words — the  same  warning. 
Often  in  his  dreams  it  had  seemed  to 
Mm  as  though  he  felt  a  cutting  pain  at 
his  neck,  and  that  lie  had  seen  a  scaf- 
fold, on  which  his  own  head  rolled 
along. 

Henry  Howard  was  superstitious,  for 
he  was  a  poet,  and  to  poets  it  is  granted 
to  imagine  a  secret  connection  between 
the  visible  and  the  invisible  world,  and 
to  believe  thaf  supernatural  agencies  and 
unseen  forms  surround  man,  and  either 
afford  him  protection  or  else  hurl  him 
into  the  abyss. 

There  were  moments  when  he  be- 
lieved in  the  truth  of  his  dreams,  when 
he  doubted  not  this  dismal  and  awful 
fate  which  they  announced  to  him. 

At  first  he  had  yielded  to  these  fan- 
cies with  smiling  resignation,  but  now 
since  he  loved  Katharine,  since  she  be- 
longed to  him,  he  was  unwilling  to  die; 
and  when  life  offered  him  its  most  de- 
lightful enjoyments,  its  most  intoxica- 
ting raptures,  he  was  loath  to  leave  it — 
he  now  recoiled  from  the  thought  of 
death.  He  was  therefore  cautious  and 
thoughtful ;  and  knowing  the  king's 
fierce,  and  malignant,  and  jealous  dis- 
position, he  had  always  been  very  care- 
ful to  avoid  every  thing  that  could 
provoke  Mm,  or  that  could  rouse  the 
royal  tiger  from  his  slumber. 

It  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  king  had 
directed  his  special  rancor  against  him 


and  his  family — as  if  he  never  could  for- 
give them  that  the  wife  he  had  most 
loved,  and  who  had  pained  him  the  most 
deeply,  had  sprung  from  their  race.  In 
every  look,  in  every  word  of  the  king, 
Henry  Howard  felt  and  experienced  this 
secret  animosity  of  his  royal  master,  and 
he  suspected  that  Henry  was  only 
watching  for  a  favorable  moment  in 
order  to  seize  him  and  send  him  to  the 
scaffold. 

He  was  therefore  on  his  guard.  For 
now  that  Geraldine  loved  him,  his  life  no 
longer  belonged  to  himself;  she  loved 
him;  she  had  claims  upon  him — his  day;; 
were  therefore  rendered  sacred  in  hi;j 
own  eyes. 

Accordingly,  toward  all  those  petty 
mortifications  and  manoeuvres  on  the 
part  of  the  king,  he  had  maintained 
silence ;  he  had  even  given  way  without 
a  murmur,  and  without  asking  for  any 
justification  of  the  fact,  when  the  kin^ 
suddenly  recalled  him  from  the  command 
of  the  army  which  was  fighting  against 
France,  and  had  sent  Lord  Hertford  in 
his  place  to  take  charge  of  the  troops 
which  were  encamped  before  Boulogne 
and  Montreuil.  He  had  returned  quiet- 
ly to  his  mansion,  without  evincing  ani- 
mosity or  pique;  and  as  he  could  no 
longer  be  a  general  or  a  warrior,  he  be- 
came once  more  a  scholar  and  a  poet. 
His  mansion  now  became  once  more  the 
rendezvous  of  all  the  learned  men  of  the 
time,  and  with  true  princely  liberality 
he  was  ready  to  aid  despised  and  op- 
pressed genius,  and  to  grant  the  perse- 
cuted scholar  an  asylum  in  his  house. 
It  was  he  who  saved  the  learned  Fox 


HENRY   HOWARD,   EARL  OF  SURREY. 


155 


from  starvation,  and  who  received  him 
into  his  palace,  where  Horace  Jimius,  as 
his  physician,  and  the  afterward  so  cele- 
brated poet,  Churchyard,  as  his  page, 
had  already  found  a  home. 

Love,  and  the  arts  and  sciences,  had 
already  healed  the  wounds  which  the 
king  had  given  to  his  ambition,  and  now 
he  no  longer  felt  chagrined ;  he  was  al- 
most thankful  to  the  king.  For  to  his 
recall  alone  he  was  indebted  for  his  hap- 
piness, and  Henry,  who  wished  to  mortify 
him,  had  only  ministered  to  his  good  for- 
tune and  felicity. 

lie  now  smiled  as  he  reflected  that  the 
king,  who  had  deprived  him  of  his  staff 
a>  a  general,  had  unknowingly  given 
him  his  own  queen  in  return,  and  had 
elevated  him  at  the  moment  that  he 
wished  to  humble  him. 

He  smiled,  and  once  more  resumed  his 
lini>]fmtr  touches  on  the  poem,  with 
which  he  intended  this  day  to  celebrate 
at  the  court  festivity  the  honor  and  the 
praises  of  his  beloved  Geraldine — the 
beautiful,  the  unknown. 

"These  verses  are  harsh,  he  murmured, 
i(  this  language  is  so  feeble !  It  does  not 
express  all  the  fulness  of  worship  and 
rapture  which  I  feel.  Petrarch  was 
more  successful.  His  hi-autitul,  soft  lan- 
guage sounds  like  mu-i'-.  and  is  even  by 
i'. -elf  the  harmonious  accompaniment  of 
l.is  love.  Ah!  Petrarch,  I  envy  thee, 
and  yet  1  should  not  wish  to  be  like  thee. 
For  thy  fate  was  a  sad  one  and  filled  with 
litter  sweets.  Laura  never  loved  thee, 
and  she  was  the  mother  of  twelve  chil- 
dren, of  which  not  one  was  thine." 

He  laughed  in  the  consciousness  of  his 


own  proud  and  successful  career  as  a 
lover,  and  turned  to  one  of  Petrarch's 
sonnets,  which  lay  beside  him  on  the 
table,  in  order  to  compare  his  own  recent 
sonnet  with  a  similar  one  of  Petrarch's. 

So  completely  was  he  engrossed  by 
this  investigation,  that  he  never  once  per- 
ceived that  the  curtain  which  screened 
the  door  behind  him  was  drawn  back, 
and  that  a  young  woman,  of  striking 
exterior,  sparkling  with  trinkets  and 
resplendent  with  jewels,  had  entered  h:s 
study. 

She  was  a  person  of  imposing  beauty; 
her  large  eyes  flashed  and  glowed,  her 
lofty  brow  seemed  specially  formed  to 
wear  a  crown,  even  though  it  was  but  a 
ducal  coronet  that  adorned  her  dark 
hair,  which  fell  down  in  long,  rich  clus- 
ters upon  her  finely-moulded  shoulders. 
Her  tall  and  majestic  figure  was  clad  in 
a  robe  of  white  satin,  richly  set  off  with 
ermine  and  pearls ;  two  clasps  with  costly 
brilliants,  fastened  round  her  neck  a  short 
mantle  of  purple  velvet,  edged  with  er- 
mine, which  descended  below  her  waist. 

Thus  appeared  the  Duchess  of  Rich- 
mond, the  widow  of  King  Henry's  natu- 
ral son,  Henry,  Duke  of  Richmond,  the 
Msu-r  of  Lord  Henry  Howard,  Karl  of 
Surrey,  and  daughter  of  the  noble  Duke 
of  Norfolk. 

Since  the  death  of  her  husband,  who 
had  left  her  a  youthful  widow  of  twenty, 
she  had  resided  with  her  brother,  under 
whose  protection  she  had  placed  herself, 
and  the  world  called  them  u  the  affection- 
ate brother  and  sister." 

!     how   little    knew    the    world, 
which  usually  judges  by  appearances,  of 


156 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


the  hatred  and  the  love  which  existec 
between  the  earl  and  his  sister — how 
little  it  suspected  their  real  sentiments 
toward  each  other  ! 

Henry  Howard  had  offered  to  his 
sister  his  mansion  for  her  residence,  be- 
cause he  hoped,  perhaps,  by  his  presence 
to  impose  a  restraint  upon  her  gushing 
and  wanton  disposition,  and  to  prevent 
her  overstepping  the  limits  of  decorum 
and  propriety.  Lady  Richmond  had 
accepted  his  offer,  because  she  was 
obliged  to  do  so — because  the  parsimo- 
nious and  avaricious  king  only  allowed 
the  widow  of  his  son  a  slender  annuity, 
and  because  she  had  squandered  her  own 
means  with  lavish  hand  upon  her  nu- 
merous train  of  admirers. 

Henry  Howard  had  thus  acted  for  the 
honor  of  his  name  and  family,  but  he 
did  not  love  his  sister — on  the  con- 
trary, he  despised  her.  The  Duchess  of 
Richmond,  however,  hated  her  brother, 
because  her  proud  spirit  felt  humbled  by 
the  gratitude  which  she  owed  him. 

But  this  contempt  and  this  hatred 
were  secrets  which  they  both  studi- 
ously kept  from  the  world,  and  which 
they  scarcely  ventured  to  acknowledge 
to  themselves.  Thus  they  had  both  con- 
cealed/rorn  each  other  their  inmost  sen- 
timents, under  the  cloak  of  affection, 
and  it  was  only  at  times  that  they  each 
betrayed  th  em  selves  to  the  other,  by 
some  hasty  word,  or  by  some  undis- 
guised look. 


CHAPTER  X. 

BEOTHER   AND   SISTEE. 

THE  duchess  glided  softly  along  tow- 
ard her  brother,  still  unobserved.  The 
thick  Turkish  carpet  rendered  her  foot- 
steps inaudible;  already  she  stood  be- 
hind the  earl,  and  he  had  not  yet  per- 
ceived her. 

She  bent  forward  over  his  shoulder, 
and  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  paper  which 
her  brother  held  in  his  hand. 

And  then  she  proceeded  to  read 
aloud  the  title  of  the  piece ,  "  A  lament 
that  Geraldine  never  appears  to  her 
lover,  unless  concealed  by  a  veil." 

"Ah,"  said  the  duchess,  laughing,  "  I 
have  at  last  discovered  your  secret,  and 
you  must  now  surrender  to  me,  either 
graciously  'or  ungraciously.  Then  you 
are  really  in  love,  and  the  name  of  the 
chosen  one  to  whom  you  address  your 
verses,  is  Geraldine?  I  swear  to  you, 
brother,  that  you  shall  pay  me  dearly  for 
this  secret." 

"It  is  no  secret,  sister,"  said  the 
earl,  with  a  placid  smile,  while  he  stood 
up  and  saluted  the  duchess.  "  It  is  so 
little  a  secret,  that  I  shall  recite  this 
sonnet  this  very  evening  at  the  court 
festivity.  I  shall,  therefore,  stand  in  no 
need  of  your  secrecy,  Rosabella." 

"Then  the  beautiful  Geraldine  al- 
ways appears  to  you  only  in  a  dark  veil 
— black  as  night,"  said  the  duchess, 
with  an  air  of  though tfulness.  "But 
pray  tell  me,  brother,  who  is  this  beau- 
iful  Geraldine  ?  I  don't  know  at  court 
a  single  lady  who  bears  this  name." 


BROTHER   AND   SISTER. 


"From  which  you  may  perceive, 
sister,  that  the  whole  is  but  a  fiction — a 
mere  creation  of  my  fancy." 

"  Come,  come,  brother,  don't  deceive 
me,"  she  returned,  smiling;  "people 
don't  write  such  glowing  verses  as 
these,  unless  they  are  really  in  love. 
Under  the  name  of  Geraldine  you  are 
singing  the  praises  of  some  one  else. 
That's  very  evident!  Don't  deny  it, 
Henry,  for  I  know  very  well  that  you 
have  some  fair  object  in  your  mind's 
eye.  Nay,  I  can  read  it  in  your  very 
looks.  And  now  let  me  tell  you,  it  is  to 
know  something  of  this  lovely  person- 
age that  I  have  come  to  see  you. 
Keally  it  grieves  me,  Henry,  that  you 
have  so  little  confidence  in  me,  and 
that  you  favor  me  with  so  small  a  share 
in  your  pains  and  pleasures.  You 
really  don't  know  how  much  and  how 
tenderly  I  love  you,  my  dear  and  noble 
brother." 

She  laid  her  arm  affectionately  on  his 
shoulder  and  was  about  to  kiss  him. 
He  bent  his  head  back,  and  laying  his 
hand  upon  her  round  dimpled  chin,  he 
looked  with  an  inquiring  smile  into  her 
eyes. 

"  What !  you  want  something  from 
me,  Rosabella !  "  he  said.  "  I  have  never 
had  cause  to  rejoice  in  your  sisterly  af- 
fection, unless  when  you  required  my 
services." 

"  How  distrustful  you  are !  "  she  ex- 
claimed with  a  charming  pout,  dashing 
his  hand  away  from  her  face.  "I  have 
come,  from  the  most  disinterested  sym- 
pathy, partly  to  warn  you,  Henry,  and 
partly  to  learn  if  your  love,  perchance, 


were  directed  toward  some  lady  who 
made  my  warning  unnecessary." 

"  You  see,  therefore,  that  I  was  quite 
right,  Rosabel,  and  that  your  affection- 
ate inquiry  was  not  without  a  motive. 
Well,  then  you  wished  to  warn  me? 
But  I  was  really  unaware  to  what  ex- 
tent I  stood  in  need  of  a  warning." 

"  Nay,  brother!  For  surely  it  would 
be  very  dangerous  and  detrimental  to  you 
if  your  love,  mayhap,  were  not  in  accord 
with  the  commands  of  the  king." 

A  fugitive  blush  passed  over  Henry 
Howard's  countenance,  and  his  brow 
became  clouded. 

"With  the  commands  of  the  king?" 
he  asked,  astonished.  "  I  was  not  aware 
that  Henry  the  Eighth  had  any  power 
to  govern  ray  inclinations.  At  all 
events,  I  would  never  accord  him  such  a 
right.  Tell  me,  therefore,  at  once,  sister, 
what  you  mean  ?  What  about  the 
king's  commands?  and  what  matrimonial 
schemes  have  you  women  been  again  in- 
venting ?  For  I  know  very  well  that  my 
mother  and  yourself  have  no  rest,  with 
the  thought  of  seeing  me  still  unmar- 
ried. You  want  to  drive  me  into  wed- 
ded bliss,  and  yet  it  seems  to  me  that 
you  have  both  of  you  had  sufficient  ex- 
perience that  this  bliss  is  but  imaginary, 
and  that  marriage  in  renlity,  is,  to  say 
the  least,  but  a  foretaste  of  hell." 

"Very  true,"  laughed  the  duchess; 
"  the  only  happy  moment  of  my  married 
life  was  that  in  which  my  husband  died. 
For,  by  that  means,  I  am  more  fortunate 
than  my  mother,  who  has  her  tyrant 
.-till  alive  about  her.  Ah,  how  I  pity 
my  mother  1  " 


158 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


"  Don't  attempt  to  calumniate  our  no- 
ble father!  "  cried  the  earl,  in  a  some- 
what threatening  tone.  "God  alone 
knows  how  much  he  has  suffered  through 
our  mother,  and  how  much  he  still  suf- 
fers. It  is  not  he  who  is  to  blame  for 
his  unhappy  marriage.  But  it  was  not 
in  order  to  speak  of  these  sad  and  disa- 
greeable family  matters  that  you  came, 
sister!  you  said  you  wished  to  warn  me !  " 

"  Yes,  to  warn  you !  "  replied  the 
duchess  affectionately,  taking  the  hand 
of  her  brother  and  leading  him  to  an  ot- 
toman. "  Now,  come  and  let  us  sit 
down  here,  Henry,  and  talk  together, 
for  once,  with  all  the  confidence  and 
cordiality  becoming  a  brother  and  sister. 
Tell  me  who  is  Geraldine? " 

**  A  phantom,  an  airy  vision  ?  I've 
told  you  so  already !  " 

"  Then  you  really  don't  love  any  lady 
at  this  court  ? " 

"  No,  not  one !  There  is  not  amongst 
all  the  ladies  by  whom  the  queen  sur- 
rounds herself,  a  single  one  whom  I 
could  bring  myself  to  love." 

"  Ah,  well  in  that  case  your  heart  is 
free,  Henry,  and  you  will  be  so  much 
the  more  easily  inclined  to  fulfil  the 
wishes  of  the  king." 

"  What  does  the  king  wish  !  " 

She  laid  her  head  upon  her  brother's 
shoulder  and  whispered  softly :  "  that 
the  family  of  Howard  and  Seymour 
should  at  length  become  reconciled, — 
that  by  firm  and  sincere  bonds  of  love 
they  would  at  length  allay  the  hatred 
which  has  divided  them  for  centuries." 

"Oh,  that  is  what  the  king  wishes!  " 
cried  the  earl,  derisively,  "  Well,  truly, 


he  has  made  a  good  beginning  towards 
effecting  this  reconciliation.  He  his 
disgraced  me  in  the  face  of  all  Europe 
by  depriving  me  of  my  command,  and 
by  investing  a  Seymour  with  my  rank 
and  dignity ;  and  now,  forsooth,  he 
wishes  that  in  return  I  should  love  this 
arrogant  earl  who  has  robbed  me  of 
what  was  justly  mine,  and  who,  by  in- 
trigues, falsehood,  and  slander  unceas- 
ingly beset  the  king's  ear,  until  at  length 
he  succeeded  in  gaining  his  object  by 
ousting  me  from  my  command." 

"  It  is  true  the  king  recalled  you  from 
the  army,  but  it  was  only  to  bestow 
upon  you  one  of  the  highest  offices  at 
his  court,  by  appointing  you  chamber- 
lain to  the  queen." 

Henry  Howard  trembled  slightly,  an  d 
was  silent.  "  It  is  true,"  he  murmured, 
after  a  pause,  "I  am  indebted  to  tie 
king  for  this  office." 

"  And  besides,"  continued  the  duchess 
artlessly,  "besides,  I  don't  believe  that 
Lord  Hertford  is  to  blame  for  your  re- 
call. In  order  to  satisfy  you  of  this,  he 
has  made  a  proposal  to  the  king  and 
also  to  me,  which  must  prove  to  you 
and  to  the  whole  world,  how  high  an 
honor  Lord  Hertford  esteems  it  to  be  re- 
lated to  the  Howards,  and  especially  to 
you,  by  the  most  sacred  bonds." 

"Ah,  the  noble,  magnanimous  lord!" 
cried  Henry  Howard,  with  a  bitter 
laugh.  "As  he  cannot  advance  with 
laurels,  he  tries  to  do  so  with  myrtles  ; 
as  he  can  win  no  battles,  he  wishes  to 
try  his  fortune  by  marriage.  Well,  sis- 
ter, let  us  hear  what  he  has  to  pro- 
pose?" 


BROTHER  AND   SISTER. 


159 


41  A  double  marriage,  Henry  !  He 
sues  for  my  hand  for  his  brother, 
Thomas  Seymour,  provided  that  you 
choose  for  your  wife  his  sister,  the  Lady 
Margaret." 

"  Never  !  "  exclaimed  the  earl.  "  Hen- 
ry Howard  will  never  give  his 
hand  to  a  daughter  of  that  house — will 
never  so  far  degrade  himself  as  to  ele- 
vate a  Seymour  to  become  his  wife. 
That  may  be  well  enough  for  a  king,  but 
not  for  a  Howard." 

"  Brother,  you  defame  the  king !  " 

"  Be  it  so — then  let  him  be  defamed ! 
He,  too,  has  injured  my  fair  fame,  by 
lending  himself  to  this  unworthy 
scheme." 

"  Consider,  brother,  the  Seymours 
are  powerful,  and  stand  very  high  in  the 
king's  favor." 

"Yes,  in  the  king's  favor  they  do 
stand  high !  But  the  people  know  their 
proud,  cruel,  and  arrogant  disposition, 
and  the  people  and  the  nobility  alike  de- 
spise them.  The  Seymours  have  the 
voice  of  the  king  on  their  side,  but  the 
Howards  have  the  voice  of  the  whole 
kingdom,  and  that  is  of  far  greater  value. 
The  king  can  elevate  the  Seymours,  for 
they  stand  far  beneath  him  !  The  How- 
ards he  cannot  raise,  for  they  are  his 
equals.  He  cannot  even  degrade  them. 
Katharine  died  upon  the  scaffold,  but 
the  king  thereby  only  made  himself  a 
headsman,  and  neither  our  arms  nor  our 
honor  were  sullied  by  that  deed !  " 

"  Those  are  very  proud  words, 
Henry !  " 

"  They  become  a  son  of  the  house  of 
Norfolk,  Rosabella  !  Ah,  only  imagine 


this  petty  Lord  Hertford !  He  longs  to 
have  a  ducal  coronet  for  his  sister.  He 
wishes  to  give  her  to  me  for  a  wife; 
for,  as  soon  as  our  poor  father  dies,  I 
succeed  to  his  title.  Arrogant  up- 
start !  My  coronet  for  his  sister  ?  your 
coronet  for  his  brother's  coat  of 
arms  ?  Never,  I  say,  will  that  come  to 
pass!" 

The  duchess  grew  pale,  and  her  proud 
figure  quivered.  Her  eyes  flashed  vin- 
dictively, and  an  angry  retort  already 
rose  to  her  lips,  but  she  still  held  it  back, 
and  constrained  herself  to  calmness  and 
composure. 

"Consider  the  matter  once  more, 
Henry,"  she  said,  "don't  decide  too 
hastily.  You  speak  of  our  greatness — 
but  you  forget  the  power  which  the 
Seymours  possess.  I  tell  you  they  are 
powerful  enough,  despite  all  our  great- 
ness and  our  ancient  lineage,  to  trample 
us  in  the  dust.  But  they  are  not  only 
powerful  at  the  present  moment — but 
they  will  likewise  be  so  in  time  to  come ; 
for  it  is  well  known  in  what  views  and 
sentiments  the  Prince  of  Wales  has  been 
educated.  The  king  is  old,  feeble,  and 
declining ;  death  is  already  lurking  he- 
hind  his  throne,  and  will  soon  seize  and 
carry  him  off.  Edward  will  then  be 
king;  with  him  the  heresy  of  protest- 
antism will  be  victorious ;  and  however 
great  and  numerous  our  party  may  be, 
they  will  still  be  powerless  and  defeated 
— nay — we  shall  be  oppressed  and  per- 
secuted when  the  time  comes." 

"  We  shall  then  know  how  to  struggle, 
and,  if  need  be,  to  die !  "  exclaimed  her 
brother.  "  It  is  more  honorable  to  die 


160 


11ENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


upon  the  battle-field,  than  to  have  pur- 
chased life  by  humiliation." 

"  Yes,  it  is  honorable  to  die  upon  the 
battle  field,  Henry,  but  disgraceful  to 
fall  upon  the  scaffold.  And  this,  my 
brother,  may  be  your  fate,  if  you  will 
not  now  curb  your  pride — if  you  refuse 
to  grasp  the  hand  which  Lord  Hertford 
offers  you  in  a  spirit  of  conciliation,  and 
so  offend  him  in  a  manner  that  he  will 
never  forgive.  He  will  take  a  bloody 
revenge  should  he  one  day  attain  to 
power." 

"  Let  him  do  so,  if  he  can !  My  life 
is  in  the  hand  of  God.  My  head  belongs 
to  the  king,  but  my  heart  belongs  to 
myself ;  and  this  I  will  not  debase  so  far 
as  to  convert  it  into  merchandise,  which 
I  could  barter  for  a  little  security  and 
royal  favor." 

**  Brother,  I  entreat  you,  consider 
what  you  say !  "  exclaimed  the  duchess, 
no  longer  able  to  restrain  her  impassion- 
ed, nature,  and  glowing  with  wild  anger. 
"  Do  not  venture  with  wanton  pride  to 
ruin  my  future  prospects,  at  least.  You 
may  die  upon  the  scaffold  yourself,  if 
you  choose ;  but  for  my  part,  I  wish  to 
be  happy, — I  wish,  at  length,  after  so 
many  years  of  anxiety  and  reproach,  to 
have  my  share  also  in  the  joys  of  life. 
He  is  suitable  for  me,  and  I  shall  not  re- 
nounce him ;  and  you  must  not  dare  to 
snatch  him  away  from  me.  Know, 
brother,  that  I  love  Thomas  Seymour — 
my  whole  existence — all  my  hopes  are 
bound  up  with  him,  I  will  not  tear  this 
love  out  of  my  heart.  I  will  not  give 
him  up !  " 

**  Weil,  if  you  love  him,  marry  him  by 


all  means!"  exclaimed  her  brother. 
"Become  at  once  the  wife  of  this 
Thomas  Seymour.  Ask  the  duke,  our 
father,  for  his  permission,  and  I  am  sure 
he  will  not  refuse  it,  for  he  is  prudent 
and  thoughtful,  and  will  be  better  able 
than  I  am  to  estimate  the  advantage 
which  an  union  with  the  Seymours  may 
procure  for  our  family.  Do  this,  sister, 
and  marry  your  well-beloved — I  don't 
hinder  you !  " 

"  Yes,  you  do  hinder  me — you  alone !  " 
cried  his  sister,  trembling  with  anger. 
"You  want  to  refuse  the  hand  of  Lady 
Margaret,  and  so  mortally  offend  the 
Seymours.  By  this  means  you  render 
my  union  with  Thomas  Seymour  impos- 
sible. In  the  selfish  pride  of  your  arro- 
gance you  don't  perceive  that  you  are 
destroying  my  happiness,  while  you  only 
think  of  offering  insult  to  the  Seymours. 
I  tell  you,  however,  that  I  love — nay — 
I  worship  Thomas  Seymour;  he  is  my 
happiness — my  future — my  bliss.  Have, 
therefore,  pity  upon  me,  Henry !  Grant 
me  this  happiness,  for  which  I  entreat 
you  as  for  a  blessing  from  Heaven. 
Prove  to  me  that  you  love  me,  and  that 
you  are  willing  to  make  this  sacrifice  in 
my  behalf.  Upon  my  knees  I  beseech 
you,  Henry  !  Give  me  the  man  whom  I 
love;  bend  your  proud  head,  become 
Margaret  Seymour's  husband,  in  order 
that  Thomas  Seymour  may  become 
mine." 

She  had  meanwhile  sunk  down  upon 
her  knees,  and,  with  her  face  bathed  in 
tears,  was  wondrously  beautiful  in  her 
impassioned  emotion,  while  she  looked 
up  entreatingly  at  her  brother. 


BROTHER   AND   SISTER. 


161 


The  earl,  however,  did  not  raise  her 
from  her  kneeling  posture,  but  retreated 
a  step  and  smiled. 

"  How  long  is  it,  duchess,"  he  asked, 
derisively,  "  since  you  vowed  that  Mr. 
Wilford,  your  secretary,  was  the  man 
whom  you  loved?  Keally,  I  believed 
all  this;  I  even  believed  it,  until  one 
day  I  found  you  in  the  arms  of  your 
page.  On  that  day  I  made  a  firm  reso- 
lution never  again  to  believe  you,  though 
you  swore  to  me  with  ever  so  many 
sacred  oaths  that  you  loved  a  man.  But 
stay,  you  do  love  at  times,  though  some- 
what indiscriminately  ; — to-day  it  is 
Thomas,  to-morrow  it  will  be  John  or 
Edward,  as  the  case  may  be !  " 

For  the  first  time,  the  earl  drew  aside 
the  veil  from  his  heart,  and  allowed  his 
sister  to  perceive  all  the  anger  and  con- 
tempt which  he  entertained  toward  her. 

The  duchess  thus  felt  herself  wounded 
to  the  quick  by  his  scathing  sarcasms. 

She  started  up  from  her  knees;  her 
eyes  flashed  with  anger,  she .  gasped  for 
breath,  and  every  fibre  in  her  frame 
seemed  convulsed  as  she  stood  before 
her  brother. 

She  was  no  longer  a  woman,  but  an 
infuriated  tigress,  ready  to  devour  with- 
out pity  the  person  who  has  dared  to 
provoke  her. 

"My  Lord  Surrey,"  she  said,  with 
compressed  and  trembling  lips,  "  you 
are  a  shameless  slanderer!  Were  I  a 
man,  I  would  strike  you  to  the  ground, 
and  tell  you  that  you  are  a  knave  and  a 
coward.  But,  by  the  everlasting  God  ! 
you  shall  not  say  that  you  have  af- 
fronted me  with  impunity.  Once  more, 
11 


and  for  the  last  time,  I  now  ask  you — 
will  you  fulfil  Lord  Hertford's  wish  ? 
Will  you  marry  the  Lady  Margaret,  and 
conduct  me  to  the  altar  with  Thomas 
Seymour  ? " 

"  No ;  I  will  not,  and  I  never  shall !  " 
replied  her  brother,  solemnly.  "  The 
Howards  do  not  bow  before  the  Sey- 
mours, and  never  will  Henry  Howard 
wed  a  woman  whom  he  does  not  love !  " 

"  Ah,  you  don't  love  her !  "  she  said, 
breathless,  and  gnashing  her  teeth. 
"You  don't  love  the  Lady  Margaret; 
and  for  this  reason  your  sister  must  re- 
nounce her  love,  and  give  up  the  man 
whom  she  idolizes !  Ah,  you  don't  love 
the  sister  of  Thomas  Seymour  !  She  i? 
not  the  Geraldine  that  you  worship,  and 
to  whom  you  address  your  sonnets! 
Well  then,  I  shall  discover  who  this 
Geraldine  is — I  shall  find  her  out,  and 
then  woe  betide  her  and  you  !  You  re- 
fuse me  your  hand,  to  lead  me  to  the 
altar  with  Thomas  Seymour ;  be  it  so,  I 
shall  one  day  offer  you  my  hand,  in 
order  to  conduct  you  and  your  Geraldine 
to  the  scaffold  !  " 

And  as  she  perceived  how  the  earl 
shuddered  and  grew  pale,  she  continued 
with  a  scornful  laugh  : 

"Ah,  you  tremble,  and  terror  steals 
upon  you  !  Your  conscience  warns  you 
that  the  strenuous  champion  of  virtue 
may  also  stumble  sometimes.  You 
think  to  conceal  your  secret  by  shroud- 
ing it  under  the  veil  of  night,  like  your 
Geraldine;  who,  as  you  complain  in 
your  verses,  never  shows  herself  to  you 
without  her  dark  nocturnal  veil.  Wait  a 
little — wait!  I  shall  kindle  a  flame  for 


162 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


you,  before  which  all  your  nightly  veils 
shall  be  rent  asunder.  I  shall  light  up 
your  dark  secrets  for  you,  with  a  torch 
which  will  be  large  enough  to  ignite  the 
scaffold  which  you  shall  one  day  ascend 
in  company  with  your  Geraldine !  " 

"  Ah  !  you  are  now  disclosing  to  me 
your  true  features  for  the  first  time," 
said  Henry  Howard,  with  a  shrug. 
"The  angelic  mask  drops  from  your 
countenance,  and  I  see  the  Fury  who 
was  concealed  behind  it.  You  are  now 
the  true  daughter  of  your  mother,  and 
at  this  moment  I  understand  for  the  first 
time  what  my  father  has  suffered,  and 
why  he  did  not  shrink  from  even  the 
disgrace  of  a  divorce,  in  order  to  be  lib- 
erated from  such  a  Megsera." 

"  Oh,  thank  you — thank  you  !  "  she 
exclaimed,  with  a  wild  laugh,  "  you  fill 
up  the  measure  of  your  crime.  It  is  not 
enough  that  you  should  drive  your  bister 
to  desperation,  but  you  must  also  revile 
your  mother?  You  say  that  we  are 
Furies ;  very  well,  we  shall  one  day  be 
Furies  for  you  at  least,  and  we  will 
show  you  our  Medusa's  countenance, 
before  which  you  shall  be  turned  into 
stone.  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey, 
from  this  hour  forth  I  am  your  impla- 
cable enemy !  Take  care  of  your  head 
upon  your  shoulders,  for  my  hand  is 
raised  to  smite  it ;  and  in  my  hand  is  a 
sword'!  Beware  of  the  secret  which 
slumbers  in  your  breast,  for  you  have 
made  of  me  a  vampire  which  will  suck 
your  heart's  blood !  You  have  insulted 
my  mother  too,  and  I  shall  now  go  and 
inform  her  of  it.  She  will  believe  me, 
for  she  knows  well  that  you  hate  her, 


and  that  you  are  the  true  son  of  your 
father ;  that  is  to  say,  a  pious  hypocrite, 
a  miserable  wretch,  who  carries  virtue 
on  his  lips  and  vice  in  his  heart." 

"  Cease,  I  say,  cease !  "  cried  the  earl, 
"  if  you  would  not  have  me  forget  that 
you  are  a  woman  and  my  sister !  " 

"Forget  it  at  once  and  forever,"  she 
replied,  scornfully.  "I  have  long  for- 
gotten that  you  are  my  brother,  that 
you  are  your  mother's  son.  Farewell, 
Lord  Surrey,  I  now  leave  you  and  your 
palace,  and  from  this  time  forth  I  shall 
reside  with  my  mother  the  divorced 
wife  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk.  But 
mark  this.  We  both  have  done  with 
you  as  regards  our  love,  but  not  as  re- 
gards our  hate!  Our  hatred  remains 
with  you  unchangeably,  and  it  will  one 
day  crush  you  to  the  dust !  Farewell, 
Lord  Surrey.  When  next  we  meet  it 
will  be  in  the  king's  presence  I  " 

She  rushed  toward  the  door — Henry 
Howard  did  not  restrain  her.  He 
looked  after  her  with  a  smile,  as  she  left 
his  closet,  and  murmured  compassion- 
ately, "Poor  woman!  I  have  perhaps 
disappointed  her  of  a  lover,  and  that 
she  will  never  forgive  me.  Well,  be  it 
so !  Let  her  evermore  be  my  enemy 
—let  her  annoy  me  with  all  her  petty 
rancor  and  malice,  if  only  she  be  unable 
to  injure  HER.  I  hope,  however,  that  I 
have  guarded  my  secret  carefully,  and 
that  she  did  not  suspect  the  real  cause 
of  my  refusal.  I  had  no  alternative  but 
to  intrench  myself  behind  this  foolish 
family  pride,  and  to  assume  haughtiness, 
as  a  cloak  for  my  love.  Oh,  Geraldine, 
thee  I  would  choose  wert  thou  the 


BROTHER  AND   SISTER. 


163 


daughter  of  a  peasant;  nay  I  would  not 
deem  it  a  blot  on  my  escutcheon,  were  I 
compelled  to  cross  it  with  a  bar  sinister 
for  thy  sake.  Bat  hark!  The  clock 
strikes  four !  My  service  begins.  Fare- 
well, Geraldine.  I  must  go  to  attend 
upon  the  queen ! " 

And  while  he  retired  to  his  dressing- 
room  in  order  to  prepare  his  toilet  for 
the  great  court  festivity,  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond  returned  trembling  with 
anger  to  her  apartments.  She  passed 
along  through  the  suite  of  rooms  with 
eager  speed,  and  repaired  to  her  bou- 
doir, where  Lord  Douglas  awaited  her. 

"  Well  ? "  he  asked,  advancing  toward 
her  with  his  smooth  lurking  smile. 
"Has  he  consented?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  gnashing  her 
teeth.  u  He  swears  that  he  will  never 
enter  into  any  union  with  the  Sey- 
mours." 

"I  knew  that  well,"  murmured  the 
earl.  "  And  what  does  your  grace  now 
purpose  doing  ? " 

"I  will  be  revenged!  He  wishes 
to  prevent  my  being  happy — for  this  I 
shall  make  him  unhappy  !  " 

"In  that  you  will  do  well,  my  lady. 
For  he  is  a  faithless  and  apostate  son  of 
the  Church;  he  leans  to  the  heretical 
sects,  and  has  forgotten  the  faith  of  his 
fathers." 

"I  know  it!"   she  returned,  breath- 


Lord  Douglas  looked  at  her  with  as- 
tonishment, and  continued:  "But  he 
is  not  only  an  unbeliever,  but  a  traitor, 
and  more  than  once  he  has  defamed 
his  king,  to  whom  in  the  pride  of 


his  heart  he  thinks  himself  far  supe- 
rior." 

"  I  know  it !  "  she  repeated. 

"So  proud  is  he,"  continued  the 
earl — "so  full  of  blasphemous  arro- 
gance, that  he  fain  would  stretch  forth 
his  hand  to  grasp  the  crown  of  Eng- 
land." 

"  I  know  it !  "  said  the  duchess  once 
more.  Perceiving,  however,  the  aston- 
ished and  doubting  looks  of  the  earl,  she 
added  with  a  malicious  smile ;  "  I  know 
all  that  you  wish  I  should  know.  Only 
accuse  him — only  bring  some  charge 
against  him,  and  I  shall  testify  to  all, 
corroborate  all  that  can  lead  to  his  de- 
struction. My  mother  .is  our  ally !  she 
hates  the  father  as  heartily  as  I  do  the 
son.  Bring  forward  your  charges 
therefore,  Lord  Douglas,  we  are  your 
witnesses." 

"  Oh,  by  no  means,  your  grace,"  he  re- 
turned, with  his  soft  insinuating  smile. 
"I  know  nothing  at  all,  have  heard 
nothing — how  can  I  then  accuse  ?  You 
know  all.  To  you  he  has  spoken.  You 
must  be  his  accuser." 

"  Well  then,  conduct  me  to  the  king !  " 

"  Will  you  allow  me  in  the  first 
place  to  offer  you  one  word  of  advice  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Lord  Douglas." 

"Be  prudent  in  the  choice  of  your 
means — don't  exhaust  them  all  at  once, 
in  order  that  if  your  first  blow  should 
fail,  you  may  not  afterward  be  wholly 
unarmed.  It  is  better  and  much  less 
dangerous  to  kill  the  enemy  you  hate 
by  degrees,  and  by  a  slow  insinuat- 
ing poison,  than  to  stab  him  suddenly 
with  a  dagger,  which  may  be  broken  in 


164 


HENRY  YIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


the  act,  and  so  become  useless.  Do  not, 
therefore,  say  all  you  know  at  once, 
but  by  degrees.  Administer  your 
poison,  therefore,  to  the  king,  slowly, 
until  you  provoke  his  rage,  and  if  to- 
day you  do  not  succeed  in  bringing 
down  your  enemy,  imagine  that  you 
will  do  so  the  more  surely  to-morrow. 
Don't  forget,  too,  that  we  have  not 
only  to  punish  the  heretical  Henry 
Howard,  but  especially  the  heretical 
queen,  whose  unbelief  will  bring  down 
the  anger  of  Heaven  upon  this  land." 

"  Come  along  to  the  king  !  "  ex- 
claimed the  duchess,  impatiently.  "  You 
can  tell  me  on  the  way  what  am  I  to 
confess,  and  what  I  must  withhold.  I 
shall  do  exactly  what  you  tell  me! 
Now,  Henry  Howard,"  she  murmured 
to  herself,  "  get  ready,  the  battle  begins  ! 
In  the  pride  and  selfishness  of  your 
heart  you  have  destroyed  the  happiness 
of  my  life — nay,  my  eternal  felicity.  I 
loved  Thomas  Seymour.  I  hoped  to 
find  by  his  side,  that  happiness  for 
which  I  had  sought  so  long  and  so 
vainly  in  the  labyrinth  of  life.  By 
means  of  this  love,  my  soul  would  haAe 
been  saved,  and  would  once  more  have 
returned  to  the  paths  of  virtue.  My 
brother  has  otherwise  decreed.  He  has 
condemned  me  to  become,  instead  of 
an  angel,  a  demon.  I  shall  fulfil  my 
destiny;  I  shall  be  to  him  an  evil 
demon  I " 


CHAPTEK  XI. 
THE  QUEEN'S  TOILET. 

THE  festivities  of  the  day  were 
ended,  and  the  brave  knights  and  com- 
batants, who  had  this  day  broken  a 
lance  in  honor  of  their  ladies,  could  now 
rest  from  their  victories  upon  their 
laurels.  The  feats  of  arms  were  ended, 
and  now  the  contests  of  Mind  were 
about  to  commence.  The  knights  had, 
accordingly,  retired  in  order  to  change 
their  armor  for  gold-laced  and  velvet 
trappings;  the  ladies,  to  assume  their 
lighter  evening  robes;  and  the  queen 
too,  had  withdrawn  for  this  purpose  to 
her  dressing-room,  while  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  her  suite  waited  for  her  in 
the  great  ante-chamber,  in  order  to  es- 
cort her  to  the  throne-room. 

The  day  was  already  fast  fading,  and 
the  twilight  cast  its  long  shadows  across 
the  saloon  in  which  the  cavaliers  of  the 
court  were  walking  up  and  down  with 
the  ladies,  engaged  in  a  lively  conversa- 
tion, and  discussing  the  principal  inci- 
dents of  the  tournament  which  had  just 
taken  place. 

Thomas  Seymour — Lord  Sudley,  had 
carried  off  the  prize  of  the  day  and  van- 
quished his  opponent,  Henry  Howard. 
The  king  had  been  delighted  at  this. 
For  Thomas  Seymour  had  for  some  time 
been  his  favorite — perhaps  because  he 
was  the  declared  enemy  of  Howard.  He 
had  accordingly,  in  addition  to  the 
wreath  of  laurel  and  gold  with  which 
the  queen  presented  the  earl  as  his  prize, 
bestowed  upon  him  a  diamond  pin, 


THE  QUEEN'S  TOILET. 


165 


which  he  commanded  the  queen  to  fasten 
with  her  own  hand  in  the  earl's  collar. 
This  office  Katharine  had  performed  with 
a  grave  expression  of  countenance,  and 
with  averted  looks;  and  even  Thomas 
Seymour  had  evinced  hut  little  delight 
at  the  proud  honor  which  the  queen,  at 
her  husband's  command,  had  to  confer 
upon  him. 

The  strenuous  Papal  court  party  drew 
fresh  hopes  from  this  circumstance,  and 
augured  a  revolution  in  the  queen's  sen- 
timents, and  a  return  to  the  true  faith ; 
while  the  Protestant,  or  "heretical" 
party  looked  with  gloomy  misgiving  to 
the  future,  and  feared  that  they  were 
deprived  of  their  most  powerful  support 
and  their  most  influential  protection. 

No  one  had  perceived  that  when  the 
queen  rose  to  crown  the  victor — Thomas 
Seymour — her  gold-embroidered  hand- 
kerchief dropped  on  the  floor;  or  that 
the  earl,  after  he  had  picked  it  up,  and 
restored  it  to  the  queen,  carried  his 
hand,  by  an  accidental  and  undesigned 
movement,  for  an  instant  to  his  collar, 
which  was  as  white  as  the  small  folded 
paper  which  he  concealed  therein,  and 
which  he  had  found  in  the  queen's  hand- 
kerchief. 

One  person  only  had  seen  it.  This 
little  artifice  of  the  queen  had  not  es- 
caped John  Hey  wood,  who  immediately, 
by  one  of  his  exuberant  and  pungent 
sallies  of  wit,  made  the  king  laugh,  and 
BO  contrived  to  avert  the  attention  of  the 
courtiers  from  the  queen  and  her  belov- 
ed Seymour. 

He  now  stood  in  a  niche  near  one  of 
the  windows,  quite  concealed  behind  the 


silken  hangings ;  and  thus,  unperceived, 
he  scanned  the  whole  room  with  his 
eagle  eye. 

He  saw  and  heard  every  thing,  and  un- 
seen by  any  one,  he  watched  and  ob- 
served all. 

He  saw  how  Lord  Douglas  now  made 
a  sign  to  Bishop  Gardiner,  and  how  the 
latter  immediately  returned  it. 

As  it  were  by  accident,  they  both 
now  quitted  the  groups  among  which 
they  had  just  been  laughing  and  talking, 
and  approached  each  other,  glancing 
round  for  a  spot  where,  unobserved,  and 
isolated  from  the  crowd,  they  could  con- 
verse together.  All  the  recesses  of  the 
windows  were  thronged  with  knots  of 
busy  talkers ;  only  one  window  was  un- 
occupied— that  behind  the  hangings  of 
which  John  Heywood  was  concealed. 

Thither  Lord  Douglas  and  the  Bishop 
directed  their  steps. 

"  Shall  we  reach  the  goal  to-day  ? " 
asked  Gardiner,  softly. 

"  With  God's  gracious  help  we  shall 
this  day  annihilate  all  our  enemies.  The 
sword  is  already  suspended  above  their 
heads,  and  soon  it  will  descend  and  rid 
us  of  them,1'  replied  Lord  Douglas,  with 
grave  emphasis. 

"Then  you  are  sure  of  it?"  asked 
Gardiner,  and  an  expression  of  ferocious 
joy  passed  over  his  pale,  truculent  fea- 
tures. "  But  tell  me  how  comes  it  that 
Archbishop  Cranmer  is  not  here  ?  " 

"  He  is  ill,  and  was  therefore  obliged 
to  remain  at  Lambeth." 

"  May  this  illness  be  the  precursor  of 
his  death !  "  murmured  the  bishop, 
clasping  his  hands  devoutly. 


166 


EENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


"It  will  be  so,  my  lord.  God  will 
destroy  his  enemies,  and  will  bless  us. 
Oranmer  has  been  accused,  and  the  king 
will  judge  him  inexorably." 

"And  the  queen?" 

For  a  moment  Lord  Douglas  was  si- 
lent, and  then  he  whispered  softly: 
"  Only  wait  a  few  hours  more  and  she 
will  no  longer  be  queen.  Instead  of  re- 
turning from  the  throne-room^  to  her 
apartments,  we  shall  escort  her  to  the 
Tower." 

John  Hey  wood,  hidden  behind  the 
folds  of  the  hangings,  held  his  breath 
and  listened. 

"  And  are  you  also  quite  sure  of  our 
victory?"  asked  Gardiner.  "May  not 
some  chance  or  accident  snatch  him 
away  from  us?" 

"  Not  if  the  queen  should  present  him 
with  the  rosette.  For  then  the  king 
will  discover  Geraldine's  letter  conceal- 
ed in  the  folds  thereof,  and  she  is  lost. 
All,  therefore,  depends  upon  this — that 
the  queen  should  wear  the  rosette  and 
not  discover  its  contents.  But  see,  my 
lord,  here  comes  the  Duchess  of  Kich- 
mond.  There,  she  gives  me  a  concerted 
signal.  Pray  for  us,  therefore,  my  lord, 
for  now  I  shall  go  with  her  to  the  king, 
and  she  will  accuse  this  detestable  Kath- 
arine Parr !  I  tell  you,  my  lord  bishop, 
this  charge  will  be  a  matter  of  life  and 
death,  and  should  Katharine  escape  one 
danger,  she  will  perish  in  the  other. 
Let  your  lordship  wait  here  for  me.  I 
shall  soon  return  and  let  you  know  the 
result  of  our  scheme.  Lady  Jane  too 
will  soon  bring  you  some  news." 

He  stepped  forth  from  the  embrasure 


of  the  windpw,  and  followed  the  duch- 
ess, who  proceeded  to  the  other  end  of 
the  saloon,  and  disappeared  with  him 
through  the  door  which  led  into  the 
king's  apartments. 

The  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  court 
continued  their  conversation  and  laugh- 
ter. 

John  Heywood  stood  witli  panting 
heart  and  breathless  anxiety  behind  the 
hangings,  close  beside  Gardiner,  who 
with  his  hands  rigidly  clasped  was  mut- 
tering a  prayer. 

While  Gardiner  prayed  and  Douglas 
accused  and  slandered — the  qneen — little 
suspecting  the  plots  which  her  enemies 
were  putting  into  operation  against  her 
— was  in  her  toilet-room,  attended  by 
her  ladies,  who  assisted  in  adorning- 
their  mistress  for  the  festivities  of  the 
evening. 

She  looked  surpassingly  beautiful  in 
her  gorgeous  attire.  A  woman  at  once, 
and  a  queen — simple  elegance  combined 
with  splendor — with1  a  charming  smile 
playing  around  her  lips,  and  yet  com- 
manding respect  in  her  proud  and  im- 
posing beauty. 

None  of  Henry's  former  wives  had  so 
well  understood  how  to  enact  the  part 
of  a  queen,  and  retain  the  distinctive  at- 
tributes of  a  woman  withal. 

As  she  now  stood  before  the  large  mir- 
ror, which  the  Eepublic  of  Venice  had 
sent  to  the  king  as  a  wedding  gift,  and 
whicn  now  reflected  the  form  of  the 
qneen  resplendent  with  jewels,  she 
smiled,  for  she  was  obliged  to  admit  to 
herself  that  she  was  this  day  very  beau- 
tiful, and  she  thought  how  Thomas  Sey- 


THE  QUEEN'S  TOILET. 


167 


rnour  would  behold  her  with  a  sentiment 
of  conscious  pride. 

While  she  thus  thought  of  him  a 
crimson  glow  overspread  her  counte- 
nance, and  then  for  a  moment  she  trem- 
bled. How  brave  and  handsome  he  had 
looked  to-day  at  the  tournament,  how 
splendidly  he  had  dashed  into  the  lists, 
how  his  eyes  had  flashed,  and  how  scorn- 
ful his  smile  had  sometimes  been.  And 
then  the  look  which  he  cast  across  tow- 
ard her  at  the  moment  that  he  had  van- 
quished his  opponent,  Henry  Howard, 
and  hurled  the  lance  from  his  hand.  Oh ! 
her  heart  could  have  burst  with  rapture 
and  delight ! 

Wholly  wrapt  up  in  these  blissful  rev- 
eries, she  sank  down  into  her  gilded  arm- 
chair, and  cast  her  eyes  dreamily  and 
smiling  to  the  ground. 

Behind  her  stood  her  women,  waiting 
in  respectful  silence  for  the  nod  of  their 
mistress.  But  the  queen  no  longer  be- 
stowed a  thought  upon  them.  She  be- 
lieved herself  to  be  alone,  she  saw  noth- 
ing but  the  noble  and  manly  countenance 
of  him  for  whom  she  hnd  prepared  a 
place  in  her  heart. 

The  door  now  opened,  and  Lady  Jane 
Douglas  entered.  She,  too,  was  in  fes- 
tive attire,  and  glittered  with  brilliants ; 
she,  too,  was  beautiful,  but  it  was  the 
pale,  terrible  beauty  of  a  demon ;  and 
whoever  had  but  seen  her  as  she  entered 
the  apartment,  would  have  trembled 
from  a  sense  of  undetinable  fear. 

She  cast  a  rapid  glance  at  her  mis- 
tress, who  was  absorbed  in  her  dream, 
and  when  she  saw  that  the  queen's  toi- 
let was  finiahel,  she  beckoned  to  the 


women,  who  silently  obeyed  her,  and  left 
the  room. 

Still  Katharine  had  noticed  nothing. 
Lady  Jane  stood  behind  her,  and  ob- 
served her  in  the  mirror.  When  she 
saw  the  queen  smile,  her  brow  dark- 
ened, and  wild  anger  kindled  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Ah !  she  shall  smile  no  more,"  said 
Lady  Jane  to  herself.  "  My  sufferings 
through  her  have  been  terrible.  She, 
too,  shall  suifer  in  her  turn !  " 

Softly  and  noiselessly  she  glided  into 
the  next  room,  the  door  of  which  stood 
open,  and  eagerly  opened  a  box  filled 
with  ribbons  and  rosettes.  She  then 
drew  forth  from  her  velvet  pocket,  which 
hung  down  at  her  side  suspended  by  a 
gold  chain,  a  dark-red  rosette,  and  flung 
it  into  the  casket.  That  was  all. 

Lady  Jane  now  returned  to  the  ad- 
joining room,  and  her  countenance  which 
had  previously  been  sullen  and  threat- 
ening, was  now  elated  and  haughty. 

With  a  cheerful  smile  she  advanced 
toward  the  queen,  and  kneeling  down  at 
her  side,  kissed  her  hand  with  empresse- 
ment. 

"  What  is  my  queen  musing  upon  ?  " 
she  asked,  while  she  laid  her  head  upon 
Katharine's  knees  and  looked  up  at  her 
affectionately. 

The  queen  started  slightly,  and  raised 
her  head.  She  perceived  Lady  Jane's 
affectionate  smile  and  her  inquiring  gaze 
withal. 

Feeling  conscious  of  guilt,  or,  at  least, 
of  a  guilty  thought,  she  was  upon  her 
guard,  and  called  to  mind  the  warnings 
of  John  Hey  wood. 


168 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


"  She  is  observing  me,"  thought  Kath- 
arine to  herself.  "  She  looks  very  affec- 
tionate, and,  therefore,  she  is  brooding 
over  some  wily  scheme." 

"Ah,  I  am  glad  you  have  come,  Jane," 
she  said  aloud.  u  You  can  help  me,  for, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  feel  quite  em- 
barrassed at  the  present  moment.  I 
want  a  rhyme,  and  I'm  thinking  in  vain 
how  I  shall  find  it." 

"  Indeed,  queen — then  you  are  writing 
verses  ?  " 

41  What,  Jane,  does  that  surprise  you  ? 
Shall  I,  the  queen,  not  be  allowed  to  con- 
tend for  any  prize  ?  I  would  freely  give 
my  most  precious  jewel  if  I  could  but 
succeed  in  producing  a  poem  to  which 
the  king  would  have  to  accord  the  prize. 
But  I  greatly  lack  a  musical  ear — I  can't 
find  the  rhyme  I  want,  and  I  shall  at 
last  be  obliged  to  give  up  the  idea  of 
winning  laurels  for  myself.  But  how  the 
king  would  rejoice  at  my  success!  For, 
to  be  candid,  I  believe  he  is  rather  afraid 
that  Henry  Howard  will  carry  oif  the 
prize,  and  he  would  be  very  thankful  to 
me  if  I  could  contest  the  palm  of  victory 
with  the  Earl  of  Surrey.  You  are  well 
aware  the  king  does  not  love  the  How- 
ards." 

"  And  you,  queen  ?  "  asked  Lady  Jane, 
and  she  grew  so  deadly  pale,  that  the 
queen  herself  remarked  it. 

"  You  are  ill,  Jane,"  she  said,  full  of 
sympathy.  u  Really,  Jane,  you  appear 
to  be  suffering.  You  need  repose — you 
should  rest  a  little." 

But  Jane  had  already  recovered  her 
calmness  and  composure,  and  she  suc- 
ceeded in  smiling. 


U0h,  by  no  means,"  she  returned. 
"I  am  quite  well,  and  am  happy  in 
being  allowed  to  be  near  you.  But  will 
your  majesty  permit  me  to  beg  a  favor 
of  you  ? " 

"  Certainly,  Jane,  certainly — nay,  con- 
sider it  already  granted ;  for  I  know  that 
Jane  will  ask  for  nothing  that  her  friend 
cannot  give." 

Lady  Jane  was  silent,  and  cast  her 
eyes  to  the  ground  with  a  thoughtful  and 
absent  air.  She  struggled  inwardly  for 
a  firm  resolution.  Her  proud  heart  re- 
volted at  the  thought  of  being  obliged  to 
bend  before  this  woman  whom  she  hated, 
and  of  being  compelled  to  approach  her 
fawningly  to  ask  a  favor.  She  felt  sach 
burning  hatred  toward  the  queen,  that 
at  this  moment  she  would  willingly  have 
given  her  own  life  could  she  first  have 
seen  her  enemy  crushed  and  weeping  at 
her  feet. 

Henry  Howard  loved  the  queen ;  Kath- 
arine had  therefore  robbed  her,  Lady 
Jane,  of  the  heart  of  the  man  whom 
she  worshipped.  Katharine  had  con- 
demned her  to  the  perpetual  torment  of 
abnegation — to  the  rack — to  taste  a  hap- 
piness and  a  rapture  not  her  own ;  to 
kindle  her  ardors  at  a  fire,  which,  like  a 
thief,  she  had  stolen  from  the  altar  of 
another's  god. 

Katharine  was  found  guilty,  and  con- 
demned. 

Jane  had  no  more  compassion.  She 
resolved  therefore  to  crush  her. 

"  Well,"  inquired  the  queen,  "you are 
silent  ?  You  don't  tell  me  what  I  am  to 
do  for  you  ?  " 

Lady  Jane  raised  her  eyes  toward  her 


THE  QUEEN'S  TOILET. 


169 


mistress,  and  her  looks  were  placid  and 
composed. 

4C  Your  majesty,"  she  replied,  "  I  have 
just  met  in  the  anteroom  an  unhappy 
raan,  who  seems  quite  cast  down.  With 
you  alone  it  rests  to  lift  him  up  once 
more.  Will  you  do  so? " 

"  Will  I  do  so !  "  cried  Katharine  with 
vivacity.  "Oh,  Jane,  you  know  well 
how  anxious  I  always  am  to  help  the  un- 
happy, and  to  be  useful  to  them.  Alas, 
there  are  but  too  many  at  this  court 
whose  wounds  are  bleeding  and  torn,  and 
the  queen  has  so  little  balm  to  heal  them 
wherewithal !  Allow  me,  therefore,  to 
have  this  pleasure,  Jane,  anc^  all  the 
gratitude  will  be  on  my  side,  not  on 
yours.  Speak,  Jane,  tell  me  at  once,  who 
it  is  that  needs  my  help  ? " 

"  Not  your  help,  queen,  but  your  com- 
passion— your  gracious  favor.  Lord 
Sudley  has  this  day  vanquished  the  poor 
Earl  of  Surrey  at  the  tournament,  and 
you  can  readily  understand  that  your 
chamberlain  feels  himself  deeply  morti- 
fied and  humiliated." 

"  Can  I  alter  that,  Jane  ?  Why  does 
the  dreamy  earl — the  enthusiast  poet — 
suffer  himself  to  enter  the  lists  with  a 
champion  who  always  knows  what  he  is 
about,  and  who  always  accomplishes 
what  he  has  resolved.  Ah,  it  was  won- 
derful to  see  with  what  lightning  speed 
Thomas  Seymour  lifted  him  out  of  his 
saddle ;  and  the  proud  Earl  of  Surrey, 
that  most  wise  and  learned  man,  the 
powerful  party-leady,  was  forced  to  suc- 
cumb to  the  champion,  who,  like  the 
angel  Michael,  had  hurled  him  to  the 
dust." 


The  queen  laughed. 

This  laugh  went  like  a  sword  through 
Lady  Jane's  heart. 

li  She  shall  atone  for  this  1  "  she  whis- 
pered to  herself.  u  Your  majesty  is  quite 
right,"  returned  the  maid  of  honor. 
"He  deserved  this  humiliation;  but 
being  punished,  you  should  now  heal  his 
wounds.  Nay,  don't  shake  your  beauti- 
ful head  so.  I)o  it  for  your  own  sake, 
queen  ;  do  it  from  motives  of  prudence. 
The  Earl  of  Surrey,  with  his  father,  is 
the  head  of  a  powerful  party,  who  will 
return  this  humiliation  of  the  Howards 
with  increased  vindictiveness  toward  the 
Seymours,  and  who  will  one  day  take  a 
bloody  revenge  for  it." 

"  Ah,  you  frighten  me,"  said  the  queen, 
who  had  now  become  serious. 

Lady  Jane  continued : 

"I  saw  how  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  bit 
his  lips  when  his  son  was  forced  to  yield 
to  Lord  Seymour ;  I  heard  persons  here 
and  there  uttering  bitter  execrations 
and  vows  of  revenge  against  the  Sey- 
mours." 

"  Who  did  so !  Who  dared  to  do  so  ? " 
exclaimed  Katharine,  springing  up  vio- 
lently from  her  seat.  "  Who  is  there  at 
this  court  audacious  enough  to  wish  to 
injure  those  whom  the  king  loves? 
Name  him  to  me,  Jane ;  I  want  to  know 
who  he  is,  in  order  that  I  may  accuse 
him  before  the  king !  For  the  king  does 
not  wish  that  the  noble  Seymours  should 
give  way  to  those  Howards;  that  they, 

nobler,  better,  and  more  distinguished, 

i 
should  be  compelled  to  bow  before  those 

ambitious,  intriguing,  and  power-seek- 
ing papists.     The  king  loves  the  noble 


1TO 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


Seymours,  and  his  mighty  arm  will  pro- 
tect tli em  against  all  their  enemies." 

"  And  your  majesty  will  doubtless  as- 
sist him  therein  ? "  said  Lady  Jane  smil- 
ing. 

This  smile  made  the  queen  once  more 
cautious  and  collected. 

She  felt  that  she  had  gone  too  far, 
that  she  had  hetrayed  too  much  of  her 
secret.  She  must  therefore  make  amends 
and  cause  her  excitement  to  be  forgot- 
ten. 

"Certainly,  Jane,  I  shall  assist  the 
king  to  be  just,"  she  replied  in  a  calmer 
tone.  "  But  I  will  never  be  unjust — 
not  even  toward  those  papists.  If  I 
cannot  love  them,  at  all  events  it  shall 
not  be  said  that  I  hate  them.  And  be- 
sides it  becomes  a  queen  to  rise  above 
party  feuds.  Tell  me,  therefore,  Jane, 
what  can  I  do  for  poor  Lord  Surrey  ? " 

"  You  have  publicly  shown  the  victor, 
at  the  tournament,  a  mark  of  your  great 
favor  by  crowning  him." 

"It  was  the  king's  command!  "  cried 
Katharine  with  vivacity. 

a  Doubtless !  However",  he  will  not 
command  you  to  reward  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  also,  sliould  he  in  his  turn  gain 
the  victory  this  evening.  Do  it  there- 
fore of  your  own  accord,  queen.  Give 
him  publicly  before  your  whole  court  a 
token  of  your  favor.  Princes  have  it  in 
their  power  at  all  times  to  gladden  the 
hearts  of-  their  subjects,  and1  to  console 
the  afflicted,  without  labor  or  exertion. 
A  smile,  a  friendly  word,  a  pressure  of 
the  hand  suffices.  A  mere  ribbon  which 
you  wear  upon  your  dress  makes  the 
person  to  whom  you  give  it  proud,  even 


happy,  and  raises  him  for  the  moment 
high  above  his  fellows.  And  consider, 
queen,  that  I  am  not  now  speaking  for 
the  Earl  of  Surrey — I  am  thinking  more 
of  your  personal  interest.  If  you  have 
the  courage  publicly,  and  in  spite  of  the 
disfavor  with  which  King  Henry  threat- 
ens the  Howards,  to  be  still  just  toward 
them,  and  to  recognize  their  merits  like 
those  of  other  persons — believe  me,  if 
you  do  so,  the  whole  of  this  powerful 
party  which  is  now  hostile  to  you,  will 
be  overcome,  and  will  fall  down  van- 
quished at  your  feet ;  you  will  at  length 
be  the  all-powerful  and  all-beloved 
Queen  of  England,  and  like  the  heretics, 
the  papists  too  will  call  you  their,  pro- 
tectress. Do  not  hesitate  any  longer! 
Let  your  noble  and  magnanimous  heart 
prevail.  Spiteful  chance  has  flung  Henry 
Howard  in  the  dust ;  extend  your  hand 
to  him,  good  queen,  that  he  may  be  able 
to  raise  himself  once  more,  and  to  stand 
proudly  and  confidently  at  your  court, 
as  he  was  wont.  Henry  Howard  well 
deserves  that  you  sliould  be  gracious 
toward  him.  Great  and  resplendent  as 
a  star,  he  shines  far  beyond  all  other 
men,  and  there  is  no  one  who  can  say 
he  -is  more  prudent  or  more  brave,  more 
learned  or  more  wise,  more  noble  or 
more  renowned,  than  the  noble  and  dis- 
tinguished Surrey.  All  England  re- 
sounds with  his  fame.  Women  repeat 
to  themselves  with  delight  his  beautiful 
sonnets  and  love  songs;  scholars  are 
proud  to  call  him  one  of  themselves, 
and  warriors  speak  with  admiration  of 
his  feats  of  arms.  Be  just,  therefore, 
queen !  Since  you  have  so  highly  hon- 


THE   QUEEN'S  TOILET. 


ored  the  deserts  of  bravery,  give  due 
honor  also  to  the  deserts  of  mind.  In 
Seymour  you  have  honored  the  warrior 
— in  Howard  give  honor  to  the  poet  and 
the  man  I  " 

"  I  will  do  so,"  said  Katharine,  while 
she  gazed  with  a  winning  smile  into 
Jane's  deeply-glowing  and  animated 
countenance.  "  I  will  do  so,  Jane,  but 
upon  one  condition." 

"And  this  condition  is?" 

Katharine  threw  her  arm  round  Jane's 
neck  and  drew  her  close  to  her  heart. 
"  That  you  acknowledge  to  me  that  you 
love  Henry  Howard,  whom  you  know 
how  to  defend  with  such  glowing  ar- 
dor." 

For  a  moment  Lady  Jane  became 
slightly  convulsed,  and  leaned  her  head 
on  the  queen's  shoulder  quite  overcome. 

"Well,"  asked  the  latter,  "do  you 
acknowledge  it  ?  "Will  you  confess  that 
your  proud,  cold  heart  must  at  length 
declare  itself  .vanquished  and  captive  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  acknowledge  it,"  cried  Lady 
Jane,  while  she  flung  herself  at  Katha- 
rine's feet  with  impassioned  vehemence. 
"  Yes,  I  love  him,  I  worship  him !  I 
know  that  it  is  a  despised  and  unfortu- 
nate love,  but  what  would  you  have? 
My  heart  is  more  powerful  than  all  else. 
I  love  him, — he  is  my  idol,  and  my  lord, 
and  I  worship  him  as  I  do  my  Redeem- 
er. Queen,  you  know  my  whole  secret 
now.  Betray  me  if  you  will !  Tell  it 
to  my  father  if  you  will,  that  he  may 
curse  me — tell  it  to  Henry  Howard  if  it 
should  please  you  to  learn  how  he  scorns 
me.  For  alas,  my  queen,  I  am  not  loved 
by  him !  " 


171 


"  Poor  unhappy  Jane ! "  cried  the 
queen,  full  of  commiseration. 

Jane  uttered  a  faint  shriek,  and  raised 
herself  up  from  her  knees.  That  was 
too  much.  Her  enemy  pitied  her.  The 
person  who  was  to  blame  for  her  woes 
expressed  compassion  for  her ! 

Ah,  she  could  have  killed  the  queen, 
— she  could  have  plunged  a  dagger  in- 
to her  heart  for  daring  to  commiserate 
her. 

"  I  have  fulfilled  your  condition, 
queen,"  said  she,  breathing  more  freely; 
"  will  you  now  grant  my  request  i  " 

"Then  you  really  want  to  intercede 
for  this  cruel,  ungrateful  man,  who  does 
not  love  you  ?  He  passes  by  your  beau- 
ty with  haughty  indifference,  and  yet 
you  plead  for  him." 

"  True  love,  queen,  thinks  not  of  it- 
self; it  gives  way  to  its  object.  It  asks 
not  about  the  reward  which  it  receives, 
but  about  the  happiness  which  it  has  to 
offer.  I  saw  by  his  pale,  sorrowful 
countenance  how  much  he  suffered; 
was  it  not  then  my  duty  to  try  to  con- 
sole him  ?  I  went  to  him,  I  spoke  to 
him;  I  heard  his  lamentations  at  this 
untoward  accident,  which  indeed  was 
not  the  fault  of  his  skill  and  bravery, 
but,  as  everybody  saw,  was  the  fault  of 
his  horse,  which  was  shy,  and  stumbled 
with  its  rider.  And  when  in  all  the 
bitterness  of  his  pain  he  complained, 
queen,  that  you  would  scorn  and  de- 
spise him,  then  I  promised  him,  in  full 
reliance  upon  your  noble  and  generous 
heart,  that  at  my  request  you  would 
this  very  evening  give  him  a  mark  of 
your  favor  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 


172 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


court.  Have  I  done  wrong,  Katha- 
rine?" 

" No,  Jane — no!  You  did  right,  and 
your  promise  shall  be  fulfilled.  But 
how  set  about  it?  What  am  I  to  do ?  " 

"  This  evening,  after  the  king  has  per- 
formed in  the  Greek  scene  with  Croke, 
the  earl  will  read  some  new  sonnets 
which  he  has  composed.  When  he  has 
done  so  give  him  some  gift  or  token,  be 
it  what  it  may,  so  long  as  it  is  a  mark 
of  your  favor." 

"  But  how,  Jane,  in  case  his  sonnets 
should  deserve  no  praise,  no  recogni- 
tion?" 

"  You  may  be  sure  they  will  deserve 
it,  for  Henry  Howard  is  a  true  poet,  and 
his  verses  are  full  of  sublime  thoughts 
and  divine  melody." 

The  queen  smiled. 

"  Yes,"  she  said ;  "  you  love  him  ar- 
dently, for  you  have  no  doubts  in  him. 
We  will  therefore  acknowledge  him  as  a 
great  poet.  But  with  what  shall  I  re- 
ward him  ? " 

"Give  him  a  rose  which  you  wear  in 
your  bosom,  or  a  rosette  fastened  on 
your  dress,  and  which  shows  your  col- 
ors." 

"  But  unfortunately,  Jane,  I  wear  nei- 
ther roses  nor  rosettes  to-day." 

"  Your  majesty,  however,  may  wear 
one  if  you  please.  A  bow  is  wanted 
just  here  upon  the  shoulder.  The  pur- 
ple mantle  is  too  carelessly  stitched,  we 
must  therefore  introduce  a  slight  deco- 
ration in  the  shape  of  a  rosette  or  shoul- 
der-knot." 

She  hastened  into  the  adjoining  room, 
and  returned  with  the  little  box  con- 


taining  the    queen's    gold-embroidered 
ribands  and  jewelled  rosettes. 

Lady  Jane  turned  them  over  again 
and  again,  as  if  unable  to  make  choice 
of  any.  At  last  she  took  up  the  purple- 
red  velvet  rosette,  which  she  had  herself 
previously  thrown  into  the  box,  and 
showed  it  to  the  queen. 

"  See,  it  is  at  once  tasteful  and  costly, 
for  it  is  held  in  the  centre  by  a  clasp 
of  brilliants.  Will  you  allow  me  to 
fasten  this  rosette  on  your  shoulder, 
and  will  you  give  it  to  the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey?" 

"  Yes,  Jane,  I  will  give  it  to  him  as 
you  wish  it.  But,  my  poor  Jane,  what 
do  you  gain  by  my  doing  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  at  all  events  a  friendly  smile, 
queen." 

"And  that  is  enough  for  you?  Do 
you  then  love  him  so  very  much?  " 

"  Alas,  I  do !  "  said  Lady  Jane  with  a 
painful  sigh,  while  she  fastened  the  vel- 
vet bow  on  the  queen's  shoulder. 

"And  now,  Jane,  go  and  announce  to 
the  grand  master  of  ceremonies  that  I 
am  ready,  as  soon  as  the  king  wishes,  to 
proceed  to  the  gallery." 

Lady  Jane  turned  to  leave  the  room, 
but  she  had  scarcely  reached  the  door, 
when  she  turned  back  once  more. 

"Pardon  me,  queen,  if  I  venture  to 
address  to  you  one  petition  more.  You 
have  caused  me  this  day  to  find  in  you 
once  more  the  noble  and  faithful  friend 
of  earlier  times,  and  therefore  I  urge 
this  request  with  so  much  the  more 
confidence." 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  my  poor  Jane  ? " 

"I  have  entrusted  my  secret  not  to  the 


THE   QUEEN'S  TOILET. 


173 


queen,  but  to  Katharine  Parr,  the 
friend  of  ray  youth ;  will  she  preserve  it, 
and  not  betray  to  any  one  my  disgrace 
and  humiliation  ?  " 

"My  word  upon  it,  Jane.  No  one 
but  God  and  ourselves  shall  ever  learn 
what  has  been  said  here." 

Lady  Jane  kissed  her  hand  with  hu- 
mility, and  murmured  a  few  words  of 
thanks.  She  then  left  the  queen's 
apartment,  in  order  to  repair  to  the 
grand  master  of  ceremonies. 

In  passing  through  the  queen's  ante- 
room, she  stood  still  for  a  moment  and 
leaned  against  the  wall,  as  if  exhausted 
and  quite  broken  down.  There  was 
no  one  here  who  could  watch  or  observe 
her.  She  had  no  need  to  smile,  no 
need  under  a  calm  and  composed  ex- 
terior, to  conceal  those  stormy  feelings 
of  desperation  which  raged  within  her. 
She  could  give  vent  to  her  hatred  and 
her  rancor,  her  rage  and  her  despair,  by 
words  and  gestures,  by  tears  and  impre- 
cations, by  sobs  and  sighs.  She  could 
fall  down  on  her  knees  and  implore  God 
for  grace  and  mercy,  and  invoke  satan 
for  vengeance  and  destruction. 

When  she  had  done  so,  she  rose  up, 
and  her  features  resumed  their  usual 
cold  and  placid  expression.  Only  her 
cheeks  were  paler,  and  a  more  dismal 
fire  glowed  in  her  eyes,  and  a  scornful 
smile  played  upon  her  thin,  firmly-set 
lips. 

She  quitted  the  room  and  hastened 
along  the  corridor,  and  now  she  en- 
tered the  ante-chamber  of  the  king. 
On  perceiving  Gardiner,  who  stood 
alone,  separated  from  the  others  near 


the  window  niche,  she  went  up  to  him  ; 
and  John  Hey  wood,  who  was  still  con- 
cealed behind  the  hangings,  shuddered 
at  the  terrible  and  scornful  expression 
of  her  features. 

She  held  out  her  hand  to  the  pre- 
late, and  attempted  to  smile.  "It  is 
done,"  she  murmured,  in  dull,  leaden 
tones. 

"What?  The  queen  will  wear  the 
rosette  on  her  dress  ?  "  inquired  Gardi- 
ner, eagerly. 

"  She  wears  it  on  her  shoulder,  and 
will  give  it  to  him." 

"And  the  note  is  inside  it  ? " 
"It  is  concealed  under  the   jewelled 
clasp." 

"Then  she  is  lost,"  murmured  Gar- 
diner, "  should  the  king  find  this 
paper,  Katharine's  death-warrant  is 
signed." 

"Hush!"  said  Lady  Jane.  "See, 
there  comes  Lord  Hertford  toward  us. 
Let  us  go  forward  to  meet  him." 

They  both  quitted  the  window-re- 
cess and  walked  along  the  saloon  to- 
gether. 

Straightway  John  Hey  wood  glided 
from  behind  the  hangings,  and  creeping 
softly  along  by  the  wall,  unseen  by  any 
one,  left  the  saloon. 

For  a  moment  he  stood  still  and  re- 
flected. 

"I must  probe  their  intrigues  to  the 
very  bottom,"  said  he  to  himself.  "  I 
must  discover  through  whom,  and  with 
whom,  they  wish  to  destroy  her,  and, 
finally,  I  must  have  strong  and  undenia- 
ble proof  at  hand,  in  order  to  convict 
the  intriguers,  and  to  be  able  to  accuse 


174 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


them  successfully  before  the  king.  It  is 
therefore  necessary  that  I  should  be 
cautious  and  guarded.  Let  us  then  con- 
sider what  is  to  be  done ;  the  simplest 
plan  would  be  to  beg  the  queen  not  to 
wear  the  rosette.  But  that  would  only 
be  to  destroy,  for  once,  the  web,  with- 
out at  the  same  time  being  able  to  kill 
the  spider  that  wove  it.  She  must  ac- 
cordingly wear  the  rosette,  for  otherwise 
I  should  never  be  able  to  learn  to  whom 
she  is  to  give  it.  But  the  paper  which 
is  concealed  inside  this  rosette — that  I 
must  have — it  cannot  be  left  where  it 
is.  *  Should  the  king  find  this  paper 
then  Katharine's  death-warrant  is  signed.' 
Well,  then,  my  worshipful  priest  of  the 
devil,  the  king  will  not  find  this  paper, 
for  John  Hey  wood  won't  allow  it.  But 
how  shall  I  set  to  work  ?  Shall  I  tell 
the  queen  what  I  heard!  No!  she 
would  lose  her  composure  and  cheerful- 
ness ;  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  king,  her 
embarrassment  would  be  the  most  con- 
vincing proof  of  her  guilt.  No,  I  must 
take  this  paper  from  the  rosette  with- 
out the  queen's  perceiving  it.  Cheer 
up  then  for  the  work!  I  must  have 
this  paper,  and  cheat  these  hypocrites. 
How  it  is  to  be  done  I  don't  at  pres- 
ent exactly  see;  but  I  shall  do  it,  and 
that's  enough.  Come,  let's  be  off  to  the 
queen  !  " 

"With  eager  steps  he  hurried  along 
through  the  saloons  and  corridors,  while 
he  chuckled  and  muttered  to  himself  on 
the  way;  "Thank  God  I  have  the 
honor  of  being  the  fool ;  for  only  the  king 
and  the  fool  have  the  privilege  of  being 


able  to  enter  every  room,  even  that  of 
the  queen,  unannounced." 

Katharine  was  alone  in  her  boudoir, 
when  the  little  door  by  which  the  king 
usually  visited  her  was  opened  softly. 

"  Ah,  here  comes  the  king!  "  she  ex- 
claimed, stepping  forward  to  the  door  to 
greet  her  husband. 

"  Yes,  the  king  is  coming,  for  the  fool 
is  already  here,"  said  John  Hey  wood, 
who  entered  by  the  private  door.  "  Are 
we  alone,  queen — are  we  overheard  by 
any  one  ?  " 

"No,  John  Heywood,  we  are  quite 
alone.  What  is  it  you  bring  me  ?  " 

"  A  letter,  my  queen." 

"  From  whom  ?  "  she  asked,  and  a 
deep  blush  suffused  her  cheeks. 

"From  whom  ?  "  repeated  John  Hey- 
wood, with  a  waggish  smile — "  That  I 
don't  know,  queen ;  but,  at  all  events,  it 
is  a  begging-letter,  and  doubtless  you 
would  do  well  not  to  read  it  at  all,  for  I 
would  lay  a  wager  the  shameless  writer 
of  this  letter  requires  some  impossibility 
of  you,  were  it  only  a  smile,  or  a  press- 
ure of  the  hand,  a  lock  of  your  hair,  or, 
perhaps,  even  a  kiss.  Therefore  your 
majesty  had  better  not  read  this  begging- 
letter  at  all." 

"John,"  she  returned,  smiling  and  yet 
trembling  with  impatience — "John,  give 
me  the  letter." 

"  I  will  sell  it  to  you,  queen.  I  have 
learned  that  from  the  king,  who  also  be- 
stows nothing  from  mere  generosity, 
and  takes  more  than  he  gives.  There- 
fore let  us  make  a  bargain.  I  will  give 
you  the  letter,  and  you  shall  give  me  the 


THE   QUEEN'S  TOILET. 


175 


rosette  which  YOU  wear  on  your  shoul- 
der." 

u  Nay,  John ;  choose  something  else — 
he  rosette  I  cannot  indeed  v£fy  well 
give  you.' 

"  Then  hy  all  the  gods  be  it  sworn," 
cried  John,  with  comic  pathos,  "  I  won't 
give  you  the  letter  unless  you  give  me 
the  rosette." 

"  Why,  you  foolish  fellow,"  said  the 
queen,  UI  tell  you  I  cannot!  Choose 
something  else;  and  now,  my  good 
John,  pray  do  give  me  the  letter." 

"  Only  if  you  give  me  the  rosette.  I 
have  sworn  it  by  all  the  gods,  and  what  I 
vow  to  them  I  perform !  No,  no,  queen, 
not  those  black  looks — not  those  indig- 
nant frowns.  If  I  cannot  in  reality  have 
a  present  made  me  of  the  rosette,  why 
let  us  do  like  the  Jesuits  and  the  Papists, 
who  even  chaffer  with  their  Lord  God, 
and  snap  their  fingers  at  him  when  the 
bargain  is  struck.  My  vow  I  must  keep ! 
I  give  you  the  letter,  and  you  give  me 
the  rosette — but  mind,  you  only  lend  it 
to  me ;  and  when  I  have  had  it  for  a 
moment  in  my  hand,  I  shall  be  as  mag- 
nanimous nnd  generous  as  the  king,  and 
make  you  a  present  once  more  of  your 
own  property." 

With  a  hasty  movement  the  queen 
tore  the  rosette  from  her  shoulder,  and 
handed  it  to  John  Ileywood. 

"  And  now  give  me  the  letter, 
John?" 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  John  Heywood,  as 
he  took  the  rosette.  u  Take  it  and  you 
will  see  that  Thomas  Seymour  is  my 
brother." 

"  Your  brother,  John  ?  "  asked  Kath- 


arine, smiling,  while  with  trembling 
hand  she  broke  the  seal. 

"  Yes,  my  brother,  for  he  is  a  fool  ? 
Ah!  I  have  a  great  many  brothers. 
The  family  of  the  Fools  is  a  very  large 
one !  " 

The  queen  heard  no  more.  She  read 
the  letter  of  her  beloved ;  she  had  eyes 
only  for  those  written  words,  which  told 
her  that  Thomas  Seymour  loved  her, 
worshipped  her,  and  was  pining  away 
through  yearning  for  her. 

She  did  not  perceive  how  John  Hey- 
wood, with  nimble  fingers,  loosed  the 
jewelled  clasp  from  the  rosette,  and  took 
from  out  the  folds  of  the  velvet  a  small 
piece  of  paper  which  was  hidden 
there. 

"  She  is  saved !  "  he  murmured,  while 
he  thrust  the  fateful  paper  into  his 
doublet,  and  once  more  fastened  the  clasp 
in  its  place.  "  She  is  saved,  and  for  this 
time,  at  least,  the  king  will  not  sign  her 
death-warrant." 

Katharine  had  read  the  letter  to  the 
end.  She  now  concealed  it  in  her 
bosom. 

"  Queen,  you  have  sworn  to  me  that 
you  would  burn  every  letter  that  T 
brought  you  from  Mm;  for  it  is  a  dan- 
gerous thing  to  preserve  clandestine 
love-letters.  One  day  they  might  gain 
the  use  of  speech,  and  testify  against 
you.  I  will  not  bring  you  another  letter 
again,  unless  you  burn  this  billet-doux 
at  once." 

u  I  shall  burn  it,  John,  when  I  have 
first  really  read  it.  As  yet  I  have  only 
read  it  with  my  feelings,  and  not  with 
my  eyes.  Allow  me,  therefore,  to  carry 


176 


HENRY  YIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


it  for  a  few  hours  longer  next  my 
heart." 

"  But  swear  to  me  that  you  will  burn 
it  this  very  evening  ?  " 

"  I  swear  to  you  that  I  will!  " 

"  Then  for  this  time  I  shall  be  satisfied. 
Here  is  your  rosette,  and  like  the  cele- 
brated fox  in  the  fable,  who  declared  the 
grapes  were  sour  because  he  could  not 
reach  them,  I  say  to  you,  '  Take  back 
your  rosette — I  don't  like  it !  " 

He  handed  the  rosette  to  the  queen, 
and  she  fastened  it  once  more,  smiling, 
on  her  shoulder. 

"  John,"  she  said,  extending  to  him 
her  hand  with  a  bewitching  smile, 
"John,  when  will  you  permit  me  to 
thank  you  otherwise  than  by  words? 
When  will  you  suffer  your  queen,  to  re- 
ward you  for  all  your  kind  services, 
otherwise  than  by  expressions  of  grati- 
tude ? " 

John  Heywood  kissed  her  hand,  and 
replied  with  a  sad  expression :  "  I  shall 
demand  a  reward  from  you  on  the  day 
on  which  my  tears  and  entreaties  shall 
have  succeeded  in  persuading  you  to  give 
up  this  sad  and  dangerous  love.  Truly 
on  that  day  I  should  have  deserved  a  re- 
ward, and  I  would  accept  it  from  you 
with  a  proud  and  thankful  heart." 

"Then,  my  poor  John,  in  that  case 
you  will  never  receive  your  reward,  for 
that  day  will  never  come!  " 

"  Apparently  then  I  shall  receive  my 
reward,  but  from  the  king,  and  it  will 
be  a  reward  whereby  one  loses  his  sight 
and  hearing,  and  his  head  to  boot!  "Well, 
we  shall  see !  Until  then,  farewell 
queen  ;  I  must  go  to  the  king,  for  some- 


body might  surprise  me  here,  and  might 
hit  upon  the  wise  thought  that  John 
Heywood  is  not  always  a  fool,  but  is 
sometimes  the  messenger  of  love;  I  kiss 
the  hem  of  your  garments;  farewell, 
queen !  " 

And  once  more  he  glided  through  the 
private  door.  x 

"We  will  now  examine  this  paper," 
he  murmured  to  himself,  when  he  had 
reached  the  corridor,  and  was  sure  of 
not  being  seen  by  any  one. 

He  drew  the  paper  forth  from  his 
doublet  and  opened  it.  "  I  don't  know 
the  handwriting,  but  it  is  that  of  a  wo- 
man." 

The  letter  was  as  follows  : — "  Dost 
thou  believe  me  now,  my  beloved?  I 
swore  that  this  day,  in  presence  of  the 
king,  and  of  my  whole  court,  I  would 
give  thee  this  rosette,  and  I  have  done 
it.  For  thee  I  gladly  risk  my  life,  for 
thou  art  my  life,  and  it  would  ever  more 
be  more  blissful  to  die  with  thee  than  to 
live  without  thee.  I  only  live  when  I 
rest  in  thy  arms — and  those  dark  nights 
when  thou  art  beside  me — they  are  the 
light  and  sunshine  of  my  days.  Let  us 
pray  heaven,  that  speedily  we  may  have 
a  moonless  night,  for  such  a  night  brings 
to  me  my  beloved,  and  to  thee  thy  thrice- 
blest  wife  once  more. 

"  GEEALDINE." 

"  Geraldine  !  Who  is  Geraldine  ?  " 
murmured  John  Heywood,  again  thrust- 
ing the  paper  into  his  doublet.  "  I  must 
disentangle  this  web  of  falsehood  and  de- 
ceit, I  must  know  what  all  this  means. 
For  this  is  more  than  an  intrigue — it  is  a 


THE  QUEEN'S  TOILET. 


177 


fictitious  accusation!  Some  matter  of 
fact  is  apparently  involved.  This  letter 
was  to  be  given  by  the  queen  to  some 
man  or  other,  and  it  speaks  of  sweet  rec- 
ollections and  blissful  nights!  The  per- 
son therefore  who  receives  this  letter  is 
in  the  plot  against  Katharine,  and  I  dare 
say  her  bitterest  enemy,  for  he  makes 
use  of  love  against  her.  Some  treachery, 
some  trick  is  concealed  in  the  back- 
ground. Either  the  man  is  deceived  for 
whom  this  letter  is  intended,  and  he  is 
an  unwitting  tool  in  the  hands- of  the 
papists,  or  else  he  is  in  league  with  them, 
and  like  an  arrant  knave,  has  undertaken 
to  represent  himself  as  the  queen's  para- 
mour. But  who  can  it  be?  Thomas 
Seymour  perhaps?  It  were  possible, 
for  he  has  a  cold,  deceitful  heart,  and  he 
would  be  quite  capable  of  such  treachery. 
If  so,  then  I  am  the  man  who  will  accuse 
him  to  the  king,  and  by  Heaven  his  head 
shall  fall.  And  now  to  the  king !  " 

Just  as  he  entered  the  king's  ante- 
room, the  door  of  the  closet  opened,  and 
the  Duchess  of  Richmond  came  out,  ac- 
companied by  Lord  Douglas. 

Lady  Jane  and  Gardiner  were  stand- 
ing, as  if  by  accident,  in  the  vicinity  of 
this  door. 

44  Well,  have  we  also  reached  our  goal 
there  ?  "  asked  Gardiner. 

"  We  have,"  replied  Lord  Douglas. 
"The  duchess  has  accused  her  brother 
of  an  amorous  relationship  with  the 
queen.  She  has  declared  that  sometimes 
by  night  he  leaves  his  mansion,  and  does 
not  return  to  it  before  morning.  She 
has  stated  that  four  nights  since  she  fol- 
lowed the  footsteps  of  her  brother,  her- 
12 


self,  and  saw  how  he  had  entered  the 
wing  of  the  palace  inhabited  by  the 
queen;  and  one  of  the  women  of  the 
queen's  bedchamber  informed  the  duch- 
ess that  the  queen  was  not  in  her  own 
rooms  on  that  night." 

"And  the  king  listened  to  the  accusa- 
tion, and  (}id  not  in  his  anger  strangle 
you?" 

"  He  is  still  in  that  dull  state  of  rage 
when  the  lava  is  first  fermenting,  which 
will  soon  overflow  the  crater.  As  yet, 
all  is  quiet,  but  be  assured  there  will  be 
an  eruption,  and  streams  of  seething  lava 
will  overwhelm  those  who  have  dared  to 
provoke  the  god  Vulcan." 

"And  does  he  know  of  the  rosette? " 
asked  Lady  Jane. 

"  He  knows  all.  And  up  to  the  criti- 
cal moment  he  will  not  let  his  anger  be 
suspected  by  any  one.  He  says  he  will 
make  the  queen  feel  quite  assured,  in 
order  thereby  to  be  able  to  get  into  his 
hand  the  sure  proof  of  her  guilt.  Now 
we  shall  certainly  give  him  this  proof, 
from  which  it  follows  that  the  queen  ia 
irrecoverably  lost." 

"  But  hark !  The  doors  are  opening, 
and  the  grand  master  of  the  ceremonies 
is  coming  to  summon  us  to  the  golden 
gallery." 

"  Walk  in,  ladies  and  gentlemen — walk 
up !  "  murmured  John  Heywood,  gliding 
along  behind  them.  "  I'm  with  you  al- 
ready, and  I  shall  be  the  mouse  to  bite 
the  net  in  which  ye  wish  to  catch  my: 
tine  great-hearted  lioness." 


178 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  QUEEN'S  EOSETTE. 

«• 

THE  golden  gallery  in  which  the  poets' 
tournament  was  to  be  held,  presented  on 
this  evening  a  truly  enchanting  and 
fairy-like  spectacle.  Mirrors  of  gigantic 
size  encased  in  broad  golden  frames,  dec- 
orated with  carved  work  of  the  most 
exquisite  kind,  adorned  the  walls,  and 
reflected  in  endless  perspective  the  huge 
chandeliers,  which  with  their  innumer- 
able wax  tapers  shed  a  noonday  splen- 
dor throughout  the  immense  saloon. 
Here  and  there  before  the  mirrors  were 
arranged  groups  of  the  choicest  and  rar- 
est flowers,  which  emitted  on  all  sides 
their  overpowering  yet  soothing  fra- 
grance, and  which  in  the  variety  and 
beauty  of  their  colors  outshone  the  Turk- 
ish carpet  that  covered  the  whole  saloon, 
and  converted  the  floor  into  one  vast 
flower-bed.  Between  the  different  flow- 
er-groves were  tables  with  golden  ves- 
sels, filled  with  refreshing  drinks,  while 
at  the  other  end  of  the  immense  gallery 
stood  a  huge  buffet  laid  out  with  the 
rarest  and  most  costly  viands.  At  pres- 
ent the  doors  of  the  buffet — which,  when 
it  was  opened,  represented  an  entire 
room  in  itself— were  still  closed. 

As  yet  the  guests  had  not  pressed 
forward  to  the  material  enjoyments  of 
the  evening;  they  were  still  occupied 
with  the  pleasures  of  the  mind.  The 
brilliant  and  select  company  which  filled 
the  saloon  were  yet  for  some  time  con- 
demned to  silence ;  they  were  forced  to 
confine  their  laughter  and  their  scandal, 


their  wit  and  their  calumny,  their  flat- 
tery and  their  hypocrisy,  within  them- 
selves. 

A  pause  had  just  ensued.  The  king, 
assisted  by  Croke,  had  represented  to  his 
court  a  scene  from  the  "  Antigone,"  and 
his  audience  had  just  begun  to  breathe 
freely  after  the  wonderful  and  sublime 
enjoyment  of  having  heard  a  language 
of  which  none  of  them  understood  a 
word,  but  which  they  thought  very  beau- 
tiful because  the  king  admired  it. 

Henry  the  Eighth  had  once  more  flung 
himself  back  in  his  chair  of  state,  and  was 
gasping  and  panting,  after  his  immense 
efforts ;  and  while  he  rested  and  mused, 
an  invisible  orchestra  played  a  piece  of 
music  composed  by  the  king  himself, 
which,  with  its  grave  and  solemn  meas- 
ures, contrasted  strikingly  with  the  gay 
and  dazzling  saloon,  and  with  the  assem- 
bled company — brilliant,  mirthful,  and 
wit-abounding. 

For  the  king  had  given  command  that 
his  guests  should  laugh  and  be  merry, 
that  they  should  converse  with  unre- 
strained freedom.  It  was  therefore  but 
natural  that  they  should  indulge  their 
gay  ety  and  their  laughter-loving  impulses, 
and  that  they  did  not  appear  to  observe 
the  exhaustion  and  fatigue  of  the  king. 

An  reste,  the  king  had  not  for  a  long 
time  been  so  cheerful,  so  youthfully  ac- 
tive, so  sparkling  with  wit  and  humor, 
as  on  this  evening.  His  mouth  brimmed 
over  with  jests,  which  made  the  gentle- 
men laugh,  and  the  fair,  fascinating  ladies 
blush ;  more  especially  the  young  queen, 
who  sat  beside  him  on  his  splendid  and 
costly  throne,  and  who  from  time  to 


THE  QUEEN'S  ROSETTE. 


179 


time  could  only  cast  a  stolen  and  yearn- 
ing glance  toward  her  beloved,  for  whom 
she  would  joyfully  have  relinquished  her 
royal  crown. 

When  the  king  saw  how  Katharine 
blushed,  he  turned  round  to  her,  and  in 
his  most  affectionate  tone  begged  her 
forgiveness  for  his  jest,  which,  from  its 
freedom,  had  only  seemed  to  make  his 
queen  still  more  beautiful,  still  more 
charming.  And  then  his  words  were  so 
cordial  and  tender,  his  looks  so  full  of 
admiration  and  love,  that  no  one  could 
doubt  but  that  the  qneen  was  in  the 
highest  favor  with  her  spouse,  and  that 
he  loved  her  in  the  most  affectionate 
manner. 

Only  the  few  who  knew  the  secret  of 
this  public  and  unreserved  show  of  ten- 
derness on  the  part  of  the  king,  fully  un- 
derstood the  danger  which  threatened 
the  queen  ;  for  the  king  was  never  more 
terrible  than  when  he  flattered,  and 
upon  no  one  did  his  anger  fall  more 
crushingly  than  upon  him  whom  he 
had  just  embraced  and  assured  of  his 
favor. 

This  was  what  Lord  Douglas  said  to 
himself  when  he  saw  with  what  a  look 
of  cordial  affection  King  Henry  con- 
versed with  his  wife. 

Behind  the  throne  of  the  royal  pair 
stood  John  Heywood  in  his  fantastic 
garb,  with  his  noble  and  withal  sly 
countenance;  and  one  of  his  sarcastic 
and  pungent  repartees  had  just  caused 
the  king  to  burst  out  into  a  loud  and 
boisterous  fit  of  laughter. 

"King  Henry,  your  laugh  does  not 
please  me  to-night,"  said  John  Heywood 


gravely.  "It  smacks  of  gall.  Don't 
you  think  so  yourself,  queen  ?  " 

The  queen  started  up  from  her  sweefc 
reverie,  and  this  was  what  John  Hey- 
wood had  intended.  He  therefore  re- 
peated his  question. 

"  Nay,"  she  replied,  "  I  think  the  king 
greatly  resembles  the  sun  to-day,  for, 
like  the  sun,  he  is  bright  and  beaming." 

"  Your  majesty  does  not  mean  the  sun, 
but  the  pale  moon,"  returned  John  Hey- 
wood, with  a  laugh.  "But  only  look 
yonder,  Henry,  how  cheerful  Lord  Arch- 
ibald Douglas  is  gossiping  with  the 
Duchess  of  Eichmond !  I  love  that  excel- 
lent nobleman.  He  always  looks  like  a 
slow-worm,  just  on  the  point  of  biting 
some  one  in  the  leg ;  and  so  it  is  that 
whenever  I  am  near  his  lordship  I  change 
myself  into  a  crane.  I  stand  upon  one 
leg,  because  then  I  can  be  sure  to  save 
the  other  from  his  bite.  Now,  if  I  were 
you,  king,  I  would  not  let  those  persons 
be  put  to  death  who  have  been  stung  by 
the  slow-worm,  but  I  would  cause  all 
the  slow-worms  to  be  rooted  out,  so  that 
the  feet  of  honest  men  may  be  safe  from 
them." 

The  king  darted  a  sudden  and  inquir- 
ing look  at  him,  to  which  John  Hey- 
wood replied  with  a  smile : 

"  Kill  the  slow-worms,  King  Henry," 
he  continued ;  "  and  if  you  should  ever 
happen  to  be  destroying  vermin,  it  won't 
hurt  if  you  also  stamp  vigorously  with 
your  foot  upon  the  priests.  It  is  such  a 
long  time  since  we  burnt  any  of  them,  and 
they  will  again  become  wanton  and  wick- 
ed, as  they  always  were  and  always  will 
be.  I  even  see  the  mild  and  pious  Bishop 


180 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


of  Winchester — the  noble  Gardiner — who 
is  yonder  there  conversing  with  Lady 
Jane,  smiling  very  serenely,  and  that's  a 
bad  sign ;  for  Gardiner  only  smiles  when 
he  has  once  more  caught  a  poor  soul,  and 
has  prepared  her  as  a  breakfast  for  his 
master — I  don't  mean  yourself,  king,  but 
the  devil !  for  the  devil  is  always  rav- 
enous after  noble  human  souls,  and  who- 
ever catches  one  for  him,  his  devilship 
gives  him  absolution  of  his  sins  for  an 
hour.  And  it  is  for  this  reason  that 
Gardiner  catches  so  many  souls — for  as 
he  sins  every  hour,  he  must  for  every 
hour  get  absolution." 

"You  are  very  spiteful  to-day, 
John,"  said  the  queen,  with  a  smile, 
while  the  king  cast  his  eyes  to  the 
ground  with  a  thoughtful  and  abstracted 
air. 

John  Hey  wood's  words  had  touched 
the  sore  spots  in  his  nature,  and  invol- 
untarily filled  his  distrustful  heart  with 
new  doubts. 

He  suspected  not  only  the  accused  but 
also  the  accuser,  and  if  he  punished  the 
one  as  a  delinquent,  he  was  ready  to 
punish  the  other  as  the  denouncer. 

He  asked  himself  what  object  Lord 
Douglas  and  Gardiner  could  have  had 
in  accusing  the  queen,  and  why  they 
had  roused  him  up  from  his  peace  and 
confidence.  At  this  moment,  when  he 
cast  a  glance  at  his  beautiful  wife,  smil- 
ing with  such  calm  and  cheerful  com- 
posure beside  him,  he  felt  his  heart 
filled  with  deep  resentment,  not  against 
Katharine,  but  against  Lady  Jane  who 
had  accused  her. 

She  was  so  lovely  and  so  beautiful — 


why  did  they  grudge  her  to  him — why 
not  have  left  him  in  his  sweet  illusion  ? 
And  perhaps,  after  all,  she  was  not 
guilty.  The  eye  of  a  guilty  woman  is 
not  so  clear  and  serene — the  demeanor 
of  one  impure,  not  so  maidenly  and  self- 


Moreover,  the  king  felt  himself  ex- 
hausted and  llase.  Even  the  practice 
of  cruelty  may  prove  wearisome  by  rep- 
etition ;  and  at  this  moment  Henry  felt 
quite  satiated  with  bloodshed. 

His  heart — for  in  such  moments  of 
mental  relaxation  and  bodily  unbending 
even  the  king  had  a  heart — was  already 
on  the  point  of  giving  way  to  the  sen- 
timents of  mercy  by  which  he  was  ani- 
mated, when  his  eye  fell  upon  Henry 
Howard,  who  with  his  father,  the  Duke 
of  Norfolk,  stood  surrounded  by  a  circle 
of  noble  lords,  at  a  short  distance  from 
the  royal  throne. 

The  king  felt  a  deadly  sting  in  his 
breast,  and  his  eyes  flashed  across  at 
the  group  yonder. 

How  proud  and  imposing  was  the 
form  of  the  noble  earl,  while  his  lofty 
stature  rose  high  above  his  compeers; 
how  noble  and  handsome  his  feature*, 
how  princely  his  bearing  and  his  whole 
appearance ! 

All  this  Henry  could  not  but  admit, 
and,  because  he  was  compelled  to  do  so, 
he  hated  him. 

No,  there  is  no  mercy  for  Katharine ! 
If  what  her  accusers  had  told  him  were 
true — if  they  could  give  him  proofs  of 
the  queen's  guilt,  then  her  fate  was 
sealed.  And  how  could  he  doubt  the 
fact  ?  Had  they  not  told  him  that  in  a 


THE  QUEEN'S  ROSETTE. 


181 


rosette  which  the  queen  would  give  the 
Earl  of  Surrey,  was  contained  a  love- 
letter  from  Katharine,  which  he  would 
find  ?  Had  not  the  Earl  of  Surrey  com- 
municated this  fact  yesterday  to  his  sis- 
ter in  a  confidential  moment,  when  he 
wanted  her  to  convey  'billets-doux  be- 
tween Mm  and  the  queen?  Had  she 
not  accused  the  queen  of  holding  noc- 
turnal interviews  with  the  earl  in  the 
lone  tower  f 

No,  there  must  be  no  mercy  for  the 
queen,  if  Henry  Howard  was  her  lover. 

Once  more  he  glanced  across  at  his 
hated  enemy.  There  he  stood  as  before, 
with  his  father,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk. 
With  what  activity  and  grace  the  old 
duke  moved  about,  how  slender  his  fig- 
ure, and  how  haughty  and  imposing  his 
air!  The  king  was  younger  than  the 
duke,  and  yet  he  was  confined  to  his 
wheeled  chair-  and  there  he  sat  like  an 
immovable  Colossus  upon  his  throne, 
while  the  duke  moved  about  freely  and 
easily,  and  only  obeyed  the  dictates  of 
his  will — not  the  laws  of  necessity.  The 
king  could  have  crushed  him  on  the 
spot — this  proud,  haughty  duke,  who 
was  a  free  agent,  while  his  king  was 
nothing  but  a  prisoner  in  his  own  flesh 
— the  slave  of  his  unwieldy  body. 

"  I  shall  annihilate  this  haughty  and 
arrogant  Howard  race !  "  murmured  the 
king,  as  he  turned  with  a  friendly  smile 
to  the  Earl  of  Surrey. 

"  Cousin,1'  he  said,  u  you  have  prom- 
ised us  some  of  your  sonnets!  Let 
us  therefore  enjoy  them  now — for  you 
see  how  impatiently  all  the  lovely 
women  of  our  court  are  glancing  at 


England's  noblest  and  greatest  poet,  and 
how  angry  they  would  be  with  me,  if  I 
were  any  longer  to  debar  them  of  this 
enjoyment.  Even  our  beautiful  queen 
longs  ardently  for  your  enthusiastic 
effusions,  for  you  know  well,  Howard, 
she  is  a  great  lover  of  poetry,  and  es- 
pecially of  yours." 

Katharine  had  scarcely  noticed  what 
the  king  had  said.  Her  glance  had  en- 
countered that  of  Seymour,  on  whom  it 
was  for  an  instant  riveted.  And  then, 
with  her  eye  yet  filled  with  the  image 
of  her  beloved,  she  cast  her  looks  tow- 
ard the  ground,  in  order  to  think  of 
him,  as  she  dared  not  prolong  her 
gaze. 

But  when  the  king  pronounced  her 
name,  she  started  up,  and  looked  at  him 
inquiringly :  she  had  not  heard  what  he 
had  said  to  her. 

"Not  even  for  an  instant  does  she 
turn  her  eyes  toward  me !  "  said  Henry 
Howard  to  himself.  "  Ah,  she  does  not 
love  me,  or,  at  least,  her  understanding 
is  stronger  than  her  love.  Oh,  Katha- 
rine, Katharine,  dost  thou  so  much  fear 
death,  that  thou  canst  on  that  account 
deny  thy  love  ? " 

With  a  kind  of  desperate  haste,  he 
drew  forth  his  portfolio.  "  I  will  com- 
pel her,"  thought  he,  "  to  turn  her  looks 
toward  me,  to  think  of  me,  and  to  re- 
member her  vows.  "Woe  betide  her 
should  she  not  give  me  the  rosette  she 
promised  me  with  such  solemn  protesta- 
tions. If  she  does  not,  then  I  shall 
break  this  fearful  silence  and  accuse  her 
to  the  king,  before  her  whole  court,  of 
treason  toward  her  love.  Then,  at  least, 


182 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


she  will  not  be  able  to  renounce  me,  for 
we  shall  mount  the  scaffold  together." 

"  Will  her  majesty  the  queen  permit 
me  to  commence  ?  "  lie  asked  aloud,  quite 
forgetting  that  the  king  had  already 
given  his  commands  to  that  effect,  and 
that  it  was  the  king  alone  who  could 
grant  such  permission. 

Katharine  looked  at  him  with  aston- 
ishment. But  then  her  eye  rested  on 
Lady  Jane  Douglas,  who,  with  an  air  of 
entreaty,  gazed  up  at  her. 

The  queen  smiled,  for  she  now  re- 
membered that  it  was  Jane's  beloved 
who  had  spoken  to  her,  and  that  she 
had  promised  the  poor  young  maiden 
to  raise  up  once  more  the  humbled 
Earl  of  Surrey,  and  to  be  gracious  tow- 
ard him. 

"Jane  is  right,"  thought  she,"  "he 
seems  much  downcast,  and  appears  to 
suffer.  Ah,  it  must  be  very  sad  to  see 
the  man  suffer  whom  we  love!  I  shall 
comply  with  Jane's  request,  for  she 
said  this  would  be  the  means  of  raising 
him  up  from  his  prostrate  condition." 

With  a  smile  she  bent  forward  tow- 
ard the  earl. 

"I  beg,"  she  said,  "your  lordship 
will  lend  this  festive  scene  its  fairest 
embellishment,  by  decking  it  with  the 
fragrant  flowers  of  your  muse.  You 
see  we  are  all  glowing  with  the  desire 
to  hear  your  verses." 

The  king  quivered  with  suppressed 
rage,  and  words  of  crushing  fury  trem- 
bled on  his  lips.  But  he  restrained 
himself — he  wished  to  have  proofs  be- 
forehand— he  wished  to  see  her  not 
only  accused  but  condemned,  and  for 


this  was  required  the  proof  of  her 
guilt. 

Henry  Howard  now  approached  the 
throne  of  the  royal  couple,  and  with 
beaming  looks  of  inspiration,  and  with 
a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  he  re- 
cited his  love-sonnets  to  the  beautiful 
Geraldine. 

A  murmur  of  approbation  rose  when 
he  had  read  his  first  sonnet ;  the  king 
alone  looked  grave  and  stern,  and  only 
the  queen  remained  cold  and  unmoved. 

"  She  is  a  perfect  actress,"  thought 
Henry  Howard,  in  the  intensity  of  his 
pain.  "Not  a  muscle  of  her  counte- 
nance moves,  and  yet  this  sonnet  must 
have  recalled  to  her  mind  the  most 
blissful — the  happiest  moments  of  onr 
love." 

The  queen  continued  cold  and  im- 
passive. But  if  Henry  Howard  had 
looked  toward  Lady  Jane  Douglas,  he 
would  have  seen  how  she  turned  pale 
and  blushed,  how  she  smiled  with  de- 
light, and  yet  how  her  eyes  were  filled 
with  tears. 

Still  the  Earl  of  Surrey  saw  nothing 
but  the  queen,  and  her  aspect  made  him 
tremble  with  anger  and  chagrin.  His 
eyes  flashed,  his  countenance  glowed 
with  passion — his  whole  being  was  filled 
with  a  kind  of  desperate  inspiration.  He 
would  at  this  moment  have  joyfully 
breathed  out  his  life  at  Geraldine's  feet, 
if  she  would  but  recognize  him — if  she 
would  but  summon  courage  to  call  him 
her  beloved.  But  her  smiling  compo- 
sure, her  cold  civility  drove  him  to  des- 
peration. 

He  crumpled  the  paper  in  his  hand — 


THE  QUEEN'S  ROSETTE. 


183 


the  characters  danced  before  his  eyes — 
h&  could  read  no  more. 

But  yet  he  would  not  be  mute.  Like 
the  dying  swan,  he  would  breathe  forth 
his  pain  in  a  last  melody,  and  give 
words  and  voice  to  his  torment  and  de- 
spair. He  could  no  longer  read — he  im- 
provised. 

Like  a  stream  of  seething  lava,  the 
words  flowed  from  his  lips;  in  fiery 
dithyrambs,  in  hymns  of  inspiration,  he 
poured  forth  the  story  of  his  love  and  of 
his  woes.  The  genius  of  poetry  hovered 
around  him,  and  lighted  up  his  noble  and 
thoughtful  brow. 

He  became  radiant  with  inspiration, 
and  even  the  queen  felt  herself  carried 
away  by  his  words.  His  love-com- 
plaints, his  painful  yearnings,  his  rap- 
tures, and  his  gloomy  phantasies  found  an 
echo  in  her  heart. 

She  understood  him,  for  she  felt  the 
same  joy.  the  same  woe,  and  the  same 
rapture— only  that  she  felt  not  these 
emotions  for  him. 

But,  as  before  stated,  he  inspired  her ; 
the  stream  of  his  passion  hurried  him 
along.  She  wept  at  his  sorrows,  she 
smiled  at  his  hymns  of  exultation. 

When  at  length  Henry  Howard 
ceased,  a  deep  silence  reigned  through- 
out the  large,  resplendent  saloon. 

The  countenances  of  all  were  deeply 
moved,  and  this  universal  silence  was 
the  poet's  finest  triumph,  for  it  showed 
him  that  even  envy  and  ill-will  were 
struck  dumb,  and  that  derision  itself 
could  find  no  utterance. 

A  momentary  pause  ensued  ;  it  re- 
sembled that  sultry  and  boding  stillness 


which  generally  precedes  the  outbreak 
of  a  storm,  when  Nature  rests  for  a  mo- 
ment to  gather  strength  for  the  coming 
tornado. 

It  was  a  significant,  a  fearful  pause, 
yet  few  there  were  who  understood 
its  meaning. 

Lady  Jane,  breathless  and  overcome, 
was  leaning  against  the  wall.  She  felt 
that  the  sword  was  hanging  over  her 
head,  and  that  it  would  destroy  her, 
should  it  reach  her  beloved. 

Lord  Douglas  and  the  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester had  involuntarily  approached 
each  other,  and  now  stood  hand  in  hand 
united  for  the  deadly  struggle  ;  while 
John  Heywood  had  slipped  behind  the 
king's  throne,  and,  in  his  sarcastic  fash- 
ion, had  whispered  an  epigram  in  his 
ear,  which  made  the  king  smile  against 
his  will. 

But  now  the  queen  rose  from  her  seat 
and  made  a  sign  to  Henry  Howard  to 
approach. 

"My  lord,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  ap- 
proaching solemnity,  "  I  thank  you  as  a 
queen,  and  as  a  woman,  for  the  noble 
and  sublime  verses  which  you  have 
written  in  honor  of  a  woman.  And  as 
the  favor  of  my  sovereign  has  raised  me 
to  be  the  first  woman  in  England,  it  be- 
comes me,  in  the  name  of  all  women,  to 
express  to  you  my  thanks.  The  poet 
and  the  warrior  have  each  their  peculiar 
reward.  The  victor  on  the  battle-field 
reeives  a  laurel-crown  !  You  have  won 
for  yourself  a  no  less  brilliant  victory; 
for  you  have  captivated  hearts !  We  de- 
clare ourselves  conquered;  and  in  the 
name  of  all  these  noble  ladies,  I  appoint 


184 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


you  their  champion — as  a  token  of 
which,  take  this  rosette,  my  lord !  It 
entitles  you  to  wear  the  queen's  colors ; 
it  binds  you  to  be  the  trusty  knight  and 
champion  of  all  women  !  " 

She  loosed  the  rosette  from  her 
shoulder,  and  presented  it  to  the  earl. 

He  had  bent  on  one  knee  before  her, 
and  was  in  the  act  of  extending  his  hand 
to  receive  this  precious  and  much-longed- 
for  pledge. 

But  at  this  moment  the  king  rose  up, 
and  with  an  imperious  gesture,  held  back 
the  queen's  hand. 

"  Your  majesty  will  allow  me,"  he  said, 
while  his  voice  trembled  with  anger — 
"  your  majesty  will  first  allow  me  to  ex- 
amine this  rosette,  and  to  satisfy  myself 
if  it  be  worthy  to  be  presented  to  the 
noble  lord  as  his  sole  reward !  Let  me 
see  this  rosette !  " 

Katharine  looked  with  amazement  at 
his  features  quivering  with  passion  and 
rage,  but  she  handed  him  the  rosette 
without  hesitation. 

"  We  are  lost  I  "  murmured  the  Earl 
of  Surrey,  while  Lord  Douglas  and  Gar- 
diner exchanged  glances  of  triumph,  and 
Jane  Douglas,  in  her  trembling  heart, 
murmured  prayers  of  anxiety  and  bewil- 
derment, scarcely  hearing  the  words  of 
malicious  joy  which  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond  whispered  in  her  ear. 

The  king  held  the  rosette  in  his  hand 
and  looked  at  it ;  but  his  hands  trembled 
so  much  that  he  was  unable  to  open  the 
clasp  which  held  it  together  in  the 
centre. 

He  therefore  gave  it  to  John  Hey- 
wood.  "These  diamonds  are  bad," 


said  he,  in  a  short,  dry  tone.  "Loose 
this  clasp,  fool,  we  will  replace  it  with 
this  pin.  The  gift  will  then  acquire  a 
double  value  for  the  earl;  for  it  will 
come  to  him  from  myself  and  from  the 
queen." 

"  How  gracious  you  are  to-day,"  said 
John  Hey  wood,  smiling.  "  As  gracious 
as  the  cat  that  plays  with  the  mouse  for 
a  while  before  she  swallows  it." 

"  Loose  this  clasp  I  "  cried  the  king,  in 
a  voice  of  thunder,  no  longer  able  to 
conceal  his  rage. 

John  Heywood  slowly  unfastened  the 
clasp  from  the  ribbon.  He  did  so  with 
marked  deliberation  and  circumspection ; 
he  allowed  the  king  to  see  every  move- 
ment and  turn  of  his  fingers ;  and  it  de- 
lighted him  to  keep  those  who  had 
woven  this  plot,  in  fearful  suspense  and 
expectation. 

While  he  appeared  quite  calm  and  un- 
concerned, his  keen,  penetrating  glance 
scanned  the  whole  assembly,  and  he 
clearly  perceived  the  trembling  impa- 
tience of  Gardiner  and  Lord  Douglas, 
and  it  did  not  escape  him  how  pale  Lady 
Jane  was,  and  how  strained  with  expec- 
tation were  the  features  of  the  Duchess 
of  Eichmond. 

"  These  are  the  authors  of  this  plot," 
said  John  Heywood  to  himself ;  "but  I 
shall  keep  silent  until  I  can  one  day  con- 
vict them." 

"  There,  that's  the  clasp  !  "  said  he  at 
length,  aloud  to  the  king.  "It  was 
fixed  as  firmly  in  the  ribbon,  as  malice 
and  hate  in  the  hearts  of  priests  and 
courtiers." 

The  king  snatched  the  ribbon  out  of 


THE  QUEEN'S  ROSETTE. 


185 


his  hand,  and  passed  it  carefully  through 
his  fingers. 

"  Nothing— nothing  at  all  I  "  he  said, 
gnashing  his  teeth ;  and  now  disappoint- 
ed in  his  anticipations,  he  was  no  longer 
able  to  resist  the  fermenting  torrent  of 
anger  which  overflowed  his  heart.  The 
tiger  within  him  was  roused  once  more ; 
he  had  calmly  awaited  the  moment  when 
the  promised  victim  should  be  flung  to 
him;  and  now  that  it  appeared  to  be 
withdrawn,  his  cruel  and  ferocious  in- 
stincts rose  up  resentingly.  The  tiger 
was  athirst  and  panted  for  blood,  and  be- 
cause it  was  denied  him  he  became  fu- 
rious with  rage. 

He  flung  the  rosette  on  the  ground 
with  a  fierce  gesture,  and  raised  his  arm 
in  a  threatening  attitude  toward  Henry 
Howard. 

"  Do  not  dare  to  touch  that  rosette !  " 
he  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  of  thunder — 
"  before  you  have  justified  yourself  as 
to  the  guilt  of  which  you  are  accused." 

The  Earl  of  Surrey  looked  at  the  king 
with  a  firm,  unflinching  gaze.  "  Then  I 
have  been  accused?"  he  asked.  "In 
that  case  I  desire,  in  the  first  place,  that 
my  accusers  may  be  brought  before  me 
face  to  face  ;  and  then  that  I  may  know 
what  my  crime  is !  " 

"  Ha,  traitor !  you  dare  to  defy  me  !  " 
exclaimed  the  king,  stamping  wildly  with 
his  foot.  "  Well,  then,  I  shall  be  your  ac- 
cuser and  your  judge !  " 

"And  surely,  my  lord  and  husband, 
you  will  be  a  just  judge,"  said  Katha- 
.rine,  while  she  bent  forward  entreatingly 
toward  the  king,  and  seized  his  hand. 
"  You  will  not  condemn  the  noble  Earl 


of  Surrey  without  having  heard  him ;  and 
should  you  find  him  innocent,  yon  will 
punish  his  accusers." 

But  this  intercession  on  the  part  of 
the  queen  made  the  king  frantic.  He 
dashed  her  hand  away,  and  looked  at 
her  with  such  an  anger-flashing  glance, 
that  she  involuntarily  trembled. 

"Traitress  thyself!  "  he  cried,  wildly, 
"  speak  not  of  innocence — you,  who  are 
yourself  stained  with  guilt,  and  before 
you  venture  to  defend  the  earl,  defend 
yourself! " 

Katharine  rose  np  from  her  seat,  and 
with  a  look  of  lofty  indignation  scanned 
the  anger-inflamed  countenance  of  the 
king.  "  King  Henry,  of  England,"  she 
said,  in  solemn  accents,  "  yon  have  pub- 
licly, and  before  your  whole  court,  ac- 
cused your  queen  of  a  crime.  I  demand 
to  know  what  it  is !  " 

She  looked  supremely  beautiful  in  her 
proud,  defiant  bearing— in  her  imposing 
and  majestic  calmness. 

The  decisive  moment  was  at  hand,  and 
she  felt  conscious  that  her  life  and  her 
future  were  struggling  with  death  for  the 
victory. 

She  looked  across  toward  Thomas 
Seymour,  and  their  eyes  met.  She  saw 
how  he  laid  his  hand  on  his  sword,  and 
returned  her  glance  with  a  smile  of  greet- 
ing. 

"  He  will  defend  me,  and  sooner  than 
suffer  me  to  be  hurried  away  to  the  Tow- 
er, he  will  himself  pierce  my  breast  with 
his  sword,"  she  whispered  to  herself,  and 
a  joyful  and  triumphant  confidence  filled 
her  whole  breast. 

She  saw  nothing  but  him,  the  man 


186 


I1ENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


who  had  sworn  that  he  would  die  with 
her  when  the  decisive  moment  should 
have  arrived.  She  looked  with  a  smile 
at  the  sword  which  he  had  already  half 
drawn  from  the  scabhard,  and  she  greet- 
ed it  as  a  dear  and  long-wiyhed-for 
friend. 

She  did  not  perceive  that  Henry  How- 
ard, too,  had  his  hand  on  the  hilt  of  his 
sword — that  he,  too,  was  ready  to  defend 
her — firmly  resolved  to  kill  the  king 
himself,  before  his  lips  should  have  pro- 
nounced sentence  of  death  against  the 
queen!: 

But  Lady  Jane  perceived  it.  She 
knew  how  to  read  it  in  the  earl's  coun- 
tenance ;  she  felt  that  he  was  ready  to 
die  for  the  object  of  his  love,  and  it  filled 
her  heart  at  once  with  sorrow  and  de- 
light. 

She  too  had  now  firmly  resolved  to 
obey  only  the  dictates  of  her  heart,  and 
the  promptings  of  her  love,  and  forget- 
ting all  else  but  this,  she  hastened  for- 
ward and  now  stood  beside  Henry  How- 
ard. 

"Be  prudent,  Lord  Surrey,"  she  whis- 
pered softly.  "Withdraw  your  hand 
from  your  sword.  The  queen  commands 
you  by  my  lips." 

Henry  Howard  looked  at  her  with  as- 
tonishment and  surprise,  but  he  suffered 
Ids  hand  to  fall  from  the  hilt  of  his 
sword,  and  looked  across  at  the  queen. 

She  had  repeated  her  demand;  she 
had  once  more  requested  the  king,  who, 
speechless  and  overpowered  with  anger, 
had  sunk  back  into  his  chair,  to  name 
to  her  the  crime  with  which  she  was 
charged. 


"  Well,  then,"  he  exclaimed  at  length, 
"you  demand  it,  and  you  shall  hear  it! 
You  wish  to  know  the  crime  of  which 
you  are  accused  ?  Answer  me,  therefore, 
my  lady  queen  ?  You  are  accused  with 
not  always  remaining  in  your  chamber 
at  night.  It  is  asserted  that  you  some- 
times leave  it  for  several  hours,  and  that 
none  of  your  ladies  accompany  you  when 
you  go  along  the  corridor  and  up  the 
private  stairs  leading  to  the  deserted 
tower,  in  which  your  paramour  awaits 
you,  and  that  he  at  the  same  time  enters 
the  tower  by  the  little  gateway  from  the 
public  street." 

"  He  knows  all !  "  murmured  Henry 
Howard,  and  again  he  laid  his  hand  on 
his  sword,  and  was  about  to  draw  near 
the  queen. 

Lady  Jane  checked  him.  "  Wait  the 
result !  "  she  whispered.  "  There  is  still 
time  enough  for  death!  " 

"He  knows  all,"  thought  the  queen; 
and  now  she  felt  within  her  the  defiant 
courage  to  dare  all,  and  at  least  not  to 
stand  convicted  as  a  traitress  in  the  eye 
of  her  lover. 

"  He  shall  not  believe  that  I  have  been 
untrue  to  him,"  she  thought.  "I  shall 
tell  all — admit  all,  in  order  that  he  may 
know  whither  and  for  what  purpose  I 
have  gone." 

"  Answer  me,  now,  Lady  Katharine," 
thundered  the  king.  "  Answer,  and  tell 
me,  if  you  have  been  falsely  accused. 
Is  it  true  that  a  week  since,  on  a  Monday 
night,  you  quitted  your  chamber,  and 
went  secretly  to  the  deserted  tower? 
Is  it  true  that  you  there  received  a  man 
who  is  your  paramour  ?  " 


THE   QUEEN'S  ROSETTE. 


187 


The  queen  looked  at  him  with  a  proud 
and  angry  glance. 

"  Henry !  Henry  !  Shame  upon  you, 
that  you  thus  dare  to  insult  your  own 
wife !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Answer  me.  You  were  not  in  your 
chamber  on  that  night  ? " 

"No,"  replied  Katharine,  with  lofty 
composure,  "  I  was  not  there !  " 

The  king  sank  back  in  his  seat,  and 
bellowed  with  intense  rage.  The  ladies 
grew  pale,  and  even  the  men  trembled. 

Katharine  alone  had  paid  it  no  heed  ; 
she  alone  had  perceived  nothing  but  the 
exclamation  of  horror  which  burst  from 
Thomas  Seymour,  and  she  only  saw  the 
angry  and  reproachful  glances  which  he 
flung  across  at  her. 

She  replied  to  his  looks  with  a  cordial 
and  confident  smile,  and  pressed  her  hand 
upon  her  heart  in  returning  his  gaze. 

"  Before  him  at  least  I  shall  justify  my- 
self," she  thought. 

The  king  had  recovered  from  his  first 
shock  of  horror.  He  raised  himself  up 
once  more,  and  his  features  now  betray- 
ed an  inexorable  and  stern  composure. 

u  Then  you  admit  the  fact  ? "  he 
asked.  "You  were  not  in  your  cham- 
ber on  that  night? " 

"  I  said  so  already,"  cried  Katharine, 
impatiently. 

The  king  bit  his  lips  so  violently  that 
they  bled. 

"And  there  was  a  man  with  you?" 
ho  inquired.  "A  man  to  whom  you 
had  given  a  rendezvous  about  this  hour, 
and  whom  you  received  in  the  deserted 
tower?" 

"  There  was  a  man  with  me^,    But  I 


did  not  receive  him  in  the  deserted  tow- 
er, and  there  was  no  rendezvous  in  ques- 
tion." 

"  Who  was  this  man  ? "  cried  the  king. 
"  Answer  me.  Name  to  me  this  man,  if 
you  would  not  have  me  strike  you  dead 
myself." 

"  I  no  longer  fear  death,  King  Hen- 
ry," replied  Katharine,  with  a  scornful 
smile. 

"Who  was  this  man?  Tell  me  his 
name !  "  exclaimed  the  king  once  more. 

The  queen  raised  herself  proudly,  and 
glanced  round  with  an  air  of  confidence 
at  the  entire  assembly. 

"The  man,"  she  replied,  with  meas- 
ured emphasis,  "who  was  with  me  on 
that  night,  is  named — " 

"John  Hey  wood!"  interrupted  the 
court  jester,  stepping  forth  with  a  grave 
air  from  behind  the  king's  chair.  "  Yes, 
Henry,  your  brother,  the  fool,  had  the 
proud  honor  on  that  night  of  accom- 
panying your  wife  on  her  holy  mission, 
but  I  assure  you  that  he  resembled  the 
king  less  than  the  king  resembles  the 
fool  just  now." 

A  murmur  of  astonishment  ran 
through  the  whole  assembly.  The  king 
leaned  back  speechless  in  his  chair. 

"And  now,  King  Henry,"  said  Kath- 
arine calmly,  "now  I  will  tell  you  where 
I  went  to  on  that  night  with  John 
Hey  wood  1  " 

For  a  moment  she  was  silent,  and  re- 
clined in  her  seat.  She  felt  that  the  eyes 
of  all  were  fixed  upon  her,  she  heard  the 
angry  groans  of  the  king,  she  perceived 
the  reproachful  glances  of  her  beloved, 
she  observed  the  derisive  smiles  of  those 


188 


HENRY   VHI.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


high-born  dames  who  had  never  forgiven 
her  for  having,  from  a  simple  baroness, 
become  a  queen.  But  all  this  only  tended 
to  give  her  courage  and  confidence. 

She  had  reached  that  pinnacle  of  life 
when  one  must  venture  all  to  avoid  sink- 
ing down  into  the  abyss. 

But  Lady  Jane,  too,  had  just  reached 
such  a  decisive  moment  of  her  existence. 
She  too,  said  to  herself,  "I  must  now 
venture  all  or  lose  all."  She  saw  Henry 
Howard's  pale  features  strained  with  ex- 
pectation. She  knew  that  if  the  queen 
now  spoke,  the  whole  web  of  her  own 
intrigues  would  be  revealed  to  him. 

She  must,  therefore,  anticipate  the 
queen.  She  must  warn  Henry  Howard. 

"  Fear  nothing !  "  she  whispered  to 
him.  "  We  were  prepared  for  this.  I 
have  put  the  means  of  escape  into  her 
hands!" 

"Will  you  now  speak  at  length?" 
cried  the  king,  trembling  with  rage  and 
impatience.  u  Will  you  tell  us  at  last 
where  you  went  to  on  that  night  ?  " 

"  I  will  do  so  !  "  replied  Katharine, 
rising  once  more  from  her  chair  with  a 
calm  and  resolute  air.  "  Bat  woe  betide 
those  who  have  driven  me  to  it!  For  I 
tell  you  beforehand  that  the  accused  will 
become  an  accuser  who  demands  justice, 
if  not  before  the  throne  of  England's 
king,  yet  before  the  throne  of  the  Lord 
of  all  kings !  You  ask  me,  King  Henry 
of  England,  where  I  went  to  on  that 
night  with  John  Hey  wood!  I  might, 
perhaps,  as  your  queen 'and  wife,  expect 
that  you  would  not  put  this  question  to 
me  before  so  many  witnesses,  but  rather 
in  the  silence  of  our  chamber — but  you 


have  sought  publicity,  and  I  do  not 
shrink  from  it!  Well,  then,  hear  the 
truth,  all  of  you !  On  that  night  of  Mon- 
day, and  Tuesday  morning,  I  was  not  in 
my  chamber^  because  I  had  a  serious 
and  a  sacred  duty  to  fulfil — because  a 
dying  woman  had  called  to  me  for  aid 
and  mercy.  Would  you  know,  my  lord 
and  husband,  who  this  dying  woman 
was  ?  It  was  Maria  Askew." 

"  Maria  Askew !  "  cried  the  king,  and 
his  countenance  assumed  a  less  angry 
expression. 

u  Maria  Askew !  "  murmured  the  oth- 
ers, and  John  Heywood  observed  how 
Bishop  Gardiner's  brow  became  clouded, 
and  how  Wriothesley  the  chancellor 
turned  pale,  and  cast  his  eyes  to  the 
ground. 

"Yes,  I  was  with  Maria  Askew!" 
continued  the  queen — u  with  Maria  As- 
kew, whom  the  wise  and  pious  lords  yon- 
der had  condemned — not  so  much  be- 
cause of  her  belief  as  because  they  knew 
that  I  loved  her.  Maria  Askew  must  die 
because  Katharine  Parr  loved  her  ?  She 
must  mount  the  burning  pile  in  order 
that  my  heart,  too,  should  be  made  to 
burn  with  anguish !  And  because  such 
was  the  case,  I  was  obliged  to  venture 
all  to  save  her.  Oh,  my  lord,  tell  me 
was  I  not  bound  to  try  every  means  for 
the  purpose  of  saving  her  ?  For  my  sake 
it  was  indeed  that  she  was  doomed  to 
suifer  all  these  agonies.  For  a  letter  had 
been  shamefully  stolen  from  me,  which 
Maria  Askew  in  her  hour  of  need  had 
addressed  to  me ;  and  this  letter  they 
showed  you,  in  order  to  make  me  sus- 
pected in  your  eyes,  and  to  accuse  me. 


THE  QUEEN'S  ROSETTE. 


But  your  noble  heart  rejected  the  sus- 
picion, and  then  your  anger  fell  upon 
Maria  Askew,  and  she  was  made  to  suf- 
i'er  hecause  I  had  escaped  punishment. 
She  was  made  to  atone  for  having  ven- 
tured to  write  to  me.  She  gained  from 
you  the  end  she  sought,  of  being  put  to 
the  rack.  But  when  ray  spouse  yielded 
to  her  urgency,  the  nobleness  of  the  king 
remained  still  unchanged  in  his  nature. 
'Go  away,'  said  he,  'put  her  to  the 
rack— to  death,  but  see  in  the  first  place 
if  she  will  not  recant !  " 

Henry  looked  with  astonishment  into 
her  noble  and  resolute  countenance. 
" You  knew  that?"  he  asked.  "And 
yet  we  were  alone,  and  there  was  no 
human  being  present  who  could  betray 
it  to  you." 

"  When  man  is  no  longer  able  to  help, 
God  takes  the  matter  in  His  own  hands," 
replied  Katharine,  solemnly.  "  It  was 
God  who  commanded  me  to  go  to  Maria 
Askew,  and  to  try  if  I  could  save  her. 
And  I  went.  But  although  the  wife  of 
a  great  and  noble  king,  I  am  still  but  a 
feeble  and  timid  woman.  I  was  afraid 
to  travel  this  long  and  dangerous  way 
alone ;  I  required  a  strong  and  manly 
arm  to  lean  upon,  and  John  Hey  wood 
lent  me  his." 

"  And  you  really  were  with  Maria 
Askew  ?  "  interrupted  the  king,  with  a 
thoughtful  air — "with  that  hardened 
sinner  who  despised  mercy,  and  in  the 
perverseness  of  her  heart  refused  to  ac- 
cept the  pardon  which  I  had  offered 
her? 

"  My  lord  and  spouse,"  returned  the 
queen,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  "  the  wo- 


man whom  you  now  accuse  stands  at 
this  moment  before  the  throne  of  the 
Almighty,  and  has  received  from  her 
God  the  forgiveness  of  her  sins.  Be  you, 
therefore,  forgiving  also;  and  may  the 
flames  which  yesterday  rose  up  around 
the  noble  and  tender  form  of  that  young 
maiden,  have  also  consumed  the  anger 
and  the  hatred  which  men  kindled  in 
your  heart  against  her.  Maria  Askew 
has  gone  hence  as  a  saint,  for  she  forgave 
all  her  enemies  and  blessed  her  torment- 
ors." 

"  Maria  Askew  was  an  abandoned  sin- 
ner, who  dared  to  oppose  the  commands 
of  her  lord  and  king !  "  interrupted  Gar- 
diner, with  a  severe  and  angry  glance. 

"  And  will  you  venture  to  maintain, 
my  lord,  that  you  have  at  all  times  ac- 
curately and  punctually  fulfilled  the 
commands  of  your  royal  master  ? " 
asked  Katharine.  "  Did  you  faithfully 
perform  them  toward  Maria  Askew  ? 
No,  I  say  you  did  not ;  for  the  king  did 
not  command  you  to  put  her  to  the  tor- 
ture— he  did  not  direct  you  in  blasphe- 
mous anger  to  lacerate  a  noble  human 
form,  and  to  disfigure  this  image  of  God 
by  converting  it  into  a  mangled  and 
monstrous  mass,  which  makes  one  shud- 
der to  contemplate.  And  that,  my  lord, 
you  have  done !  Before  God  and  your 
king,  I  accuse  you  of  this — I,  the  queen, 
accuse  you ! — For  now,  my  lord  and 
husband,  you  must  know  that  I  was  pres- 
ent when  Maria  Askew  was  put  to  the 
rack.  I  witnessed  her  torture,  and  John 
Heywood  saw  it  with  me." 

All  eyes  were  turned  inquiringly  tow- 
ard the  king,  from  whom  a  violent  out- 


190 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


burst  of  choler  and  ferocity  was  now 
expected. 

For  once,  however,  they  were  disap- 
pointed. The  king  was  so  well  pleased 
at  finding  his  spouse  blameless  of  the 
crime  laid  to  her  charge,  that  he  will- 
ingly forgave  her  an  offence  of  minor 
gravity.  Besides,  it  afforded  him  un- 
x  bounded  satisfaction  to  find  that  his  wife 
had  confronted  her  accusers  so  defiantly 
and  so  loftily,  and  he  conceived  toward 
them  no  less  anger  and  animosity  than 
he  had  before  entertained  against  the 
qneen.  He  was  well  pleased  that  the 
knavish  and  unceasing  persecutors  of  his 
beautiful  wife  were  now  about  to  be 
humbled  before  the  eyes  of  the  whole 
court. 

He,  therefore,  looked  with  an  imper- 
ceptible smile  at  his  spouse,  and  said,  in 
a  more  sympathetic  tone,  "But  how  did 
this  happen,  madam?  By  what  way 
did  you  reach  there  ? " 

"  That  is  a  question  which  any  one 
else  but  the  king  would  be  justified  in 
asking.  King  Henry  alone  knows  the 
way  which  I  took,"  replied  Katharine, 
with  a  subdued  smile. 

John  Heywood,  who  still  continued 
standing  behind  the  king's  chair,  now 
bent  forward  close  to  Henry's  ear,  and 
spoke  to  him  in  a  rapid  undertone  for  a 
long  time. 

The  king  listened  attentively  to  him, 
and  then  he  murmured,  loud  enough  to 
be  heard  by  those  who  stood  around : 
"  By  Heaven  !  she  is  a  bold  and  a  coura- 
geous woman,  and  we  should  be  com- 
pelled to  admit  that  in  her  favor,  even 
v,  though  she  were  not  our  queen." 


"Continue,  madam,"  said  the  king 
aloud,  turning  to  the  queen  with  a  look 
of  encouragement.  "  Tell  me,  Katha- 
rine, what  did  you  see  in  the  torture- 
chamber  ? " 

"Oh,  my  lord,  it  gives  me  horror 
only  to  think  of  it,"  she  exclaimed,  shud- 
dering, and  turning  pale.  "I  saw, 
writhing  in  terrible  agony,  a  poor  young 
woman,  whose  rigid  looks  were  turned 
to  heaven  with  mute  entreaty.  She  did 
not  beg  her  tormentors  for  pity;  she 
besought  them  for  no  mercy  or  compas- 
sion ;  she  did  not  shriek  or  mourn  with 
pain,  though  her  joints  cracked,  and  her 
limbs  were  torn  asunder.  She  raised 
her  hands  to  God,  and  her  lips  mur- 
mured a  gentle  prayer,  which  perhaps 
made  the  angels  in  heaven  weep,  but. 
which  had  no  power  to  touch  the 
hearts  of  her  torturers.  You,  my  hus- 
band, had  commanded  that  she  should 
be  put  to  the  rack  if  she  refused  to  re- 
cant. But  she  was  not  asked  this  ques- 
tion— the  torture  was  applied.  Still 
her  soul  was  strong  and  courageous 
within  her,  and  under  the  torments  of 
the  racksmen  her  lips  remained  mute. 
Let  learned  theologians  decide  if  Maria 
Askew's  faith  was  true  or  false,  but  this 
they  will  not  venture  to  deny,  that  in 
the  noble  inspiration  of  this  faith,  she 
was  a  heroine  who  at  least  did  not  deny 
her  God.  At  length,  exhausted  by  so 
much  useless  exertion,  the  racksmen 
left  off  their  bloody  work,  in  order  to 
rest  from  the  tortures  which  they  had 
prepared  for  Maria  Askew.  The  lien- 
tenant  of  the  Tower  declared  the  opera- 
tions of  the  rack  at  an  end — the  highest 


THE   QUEEN'S  ROSETTE. 


191 


degrees  of  torture  had  already  been  ap- 
plied, and  had  been  found  useless.  Bar- 
barity itself  had  to  confess  that  it  was 
vanquished.  But  the  priests  of  the 
Church  demanded  with  eager  ferocity 
that  she  should  once  more  be  stretched 
on  the  rack.  Dare  to  deny  this,  my 
lords,  ye  whom  I  see  standing  yonder, 
with  deadly-pale  countenances!  Yes, 
my  king ;  the  servants  of  the  rack  re- 
fused to  obey  the  servants  of  God,  for 
in  the  hearts  of  the  racksmen  there  was 
more  mercy  than  in  the  hearts  of  the 
priests.  And  when  they  refused  to  con- 
tinue their  work  of  blood,  and  when 
the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  by  virtue 
of  the  existing  laws,  declared  the  tor- 
ture at  an  end,  I  then  saw  one  of  the 
first  servants  of  the  Church  fling  aside 
his  sacred  robe,  and  then  the  priest  of 
God  became  changed  into  a  common  ex- 
ecutioner, who,  with  bloodthirsty  pleas- 
ure, lacerated  afresh  the  mangled  body 
of  the  young  maiden,  and,  more  barba- 
rous than  the  racksmen,  relentlessly 
broke  and  tore  asunder  the  limbs  which 
the  latter  had  only  forced  into  their 
screws.  Your  majesty  will  allow  me  to 
abstain  from  any  further  depicting  this 
scene  of  horror.  Trembling  and  sick  at 
•heart,  I  fled  from  that  terrible  spot,  and 
returned  to  my  chamber  with  a  sad  and 
weary  spirit." 

She  ceased,  and  sank  exhausted  into 
her  chair. 

A  breathless  silence  ensued.  The 
faces  of  all  were  pale  and  colorless; 
Gardiner  and  "Wriothesley  looked  gloomy 
and  defiant,  expecting  that  the  anger  of 
the  king,  breaking  forth  with  terrible 


vehemence  would  crush  and  overwhelm 
them. 

But  the  king  scarcely  bestowed  a 
thought  upon  them ;  he  thought  only 
of  his  young  and  beautiful  queen,  whose 
daring  imposed  upon  him,  and  whose 
innocence  and  purity  filled  him  with 
proud  and  blissful  joy. 

He  was  therefore  inclined  to  pardon 
those  who  in  reality  had  only  been 
culpable  in  having  too  exactly  and  too 
strictly  fulfilled  the  commands  of  their 
master. 

A  long  pause  had  once  more  ensued — 
a  pause  full  of  anxious  expectation  for 
all  who  were  assembled  in  the  saloon. 
Katharine  alone  seemed  quite  composed 
as  she  sat  in  her  chair,  and  looked  across 
with  a  beaming  countenance  toward 
Thomas  Seymour,  whose  handsome  fea- 
tures betrayed  the  pleasure  and  satisfac- 
tion which  he  felt  at  this  explanation  of 
her  mysterious  nocturnal  wandering. 

At  length  the  king  rose  up,  and,  with 
a  profound  obeisance  to  the  queen,  he 
said  with  a  loud,  full-toned  voice :  "  I 
have  done  you  deep  and  grievous  wrong, 
my  noble  spouse,  and  as  I  have  publicly 
accused  you,  I  will  also  publicly  re- 
quest your  pardon.  You  are  justified  in 
being  angry  with  me;  for  it  was  my 
bounden  duty  to  believe,  with  implicit 
and  unwavering  confidence,  in  the  honor 
and  fidelity  of  my  queen.  Madam,  you 
have  procured  for  yourself  the  most 
brilliant  justification,  and  it  now  be- 
comes me,  the  king,  to  bow  before  you, 
and  to  beg  that  you  will  forgive  me,  and 
impose  on  me  a  penance  by  way  of 
atonement." 


192 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


"  Commit  to  me  the  task,  my  queen, 
of  imposing  penance  on  this  repentant 
sinner!  "  cried  John  Heywood,  gleefully. 
"Your  majesty  is  much  too  generous 
and  too  faint-hearted  to  treat  my  brother, 
King  Henry,  as  he  deserves.'  Leave  it 
therefore  to  me  to  punish  him  ;  for  only 
the  fool  is  wise  enough  to  punish  the 
king  according  to  his  deserts." 

Katharine  nodded  to  him  with  a 
grateful  smile.  She  quite  understood 
the  tenderness  and  the  fine  tact  of  John 
Heywood  ;  she  knew  that  he  wished  by 
means  of  a  jest  to  relieve  her  from  this 
delicate  situation,  and  to  bring  to  a  con- 
clusion this  public  acknowledgment  of 
the  king,  which  would  otherwise  tend 
to  an  inward  reproach  for  herself. 

"Well,"  she  replied,  smiling,  "and 
what  punishment  would  you  then  award 
the  king?" 

"That  he  should  acknowledge  the 
fool  to  be  one  of  his  own  sort !  " 

"  God  is  my  witness  that  I  do  so !  " 
cried  the  king,  with  an  air  of  solemnity. 
"Fools  we  are  one  and  all,  while  we 
lack  the  glory  which  men  accord  to  us." 

"But  that's  not  all  my  sentence, 
brother  I  "  continued  John  Heywood. 
"I  further  condemn  you,  King  Henry, 
to  have  my  poem  recited  in  your  pres- 
ence, and  to  lend  your  ears,  that  you 
may  hear  what  John  Heywood,  the 
Wise,  has  composed !  " 

"Then  thou  hast  fulfilled  my  com- 
mand, and  written  a  new  interlude  ? " 
cried  the  king,  with  vivacity. 

"  Not  an  interlude,  king,  but  quite  a 
new  and  merry  sort  of  matter — a  jest- 
and-scandal  play,  which  will  make  your 


eyes  open — not  with  tears  I  hope,  but 
with  laughter.  To  our  most  noble  Earl 
of  Surrey  belongs  the  proud  fame  of 
having  presented  our  happy  England 
with  the  first  sonnets ;  well,  then,  I  too 
will  give  it  something  new,  by  present- 
ing it  with  the  first  comedy  ;  and  as  he 
celebrates  the  beauty  of  his  '  GERALDINE,' 
so  will  I  celebrate  the  fame  of  *  GAMMER 
GURTON'S  NEEDLE  ! '  which  is  the  name 
of  my  new  piece,  and  yon,  King  Jlenry, 
shall  hear  it  as  the  punishment  for  your 
sins." 

"I  will  do  so,"  cried  the  king,  cheer- 
fully, "provided  that  you  allow  it,  Kate! 
But  before  I  do  so,  I  also  will  make 
another  condition — a  condition  for  you, 
my  queen  !  You  have  scorned,  Kate,  to 
impose  a*  penance  on  me,  but  at  least 
you  must  grant  me  the  pleasure  of  being 
allowed  to  fulfil  some  wish  for  your 
sake !  Mention  some  request  which  I  am 
to  grant  you !  " 

"Well,  then,  my  lord  and  king,"  said 
Katharine  with  a  bewitching  smile,  "  I 
beg  that  you  will  no  longer  remember 
the  incidents  of  this  day,  and  that  you 
will  pardon  those  whom  I  have  only  ac- 
cused because  their  accusation  was  my 
justification.  Those  who  made  charges 
against  me,  have  at  this  moment  had 
penance  awarded  them  for  their  own  of- 
fence. Let  that  suffice  my  king,  and 
pardon  them  as  I  do !  " 

"  You  are  always  a  noble  and  generous 
woman,  Kate,"  cried  the  king ;  and  while 
his  glance  was  directed  at  Gardiner  with 
an  expression  of  contempt,  he  continued : 
"  your  request  is  granted !  But  woe  to 
those  who  shall  again  dare  to  accuse  you ! 


THE  QUEEN'S  ROSETTE. 


193 


And  have  yon  nothing  more  to   ask, 
Kate?" 

uOne  thing  more,  my  lord  and  hus- 
band !  "  She  bent  forward  close  to  the 
king's  ear,  and  whispered  :  "They  have 
accused  your  noblest  and  most  faithful 
servant,  Cranmer.  Do  not  condemn 
him,  my  lord,  without  having  first  heard 
him,  and  if  I  have  to  request  a  favor  of 
you  it  is  this — speak  to  Cranmer  your- 
self. Tell  him  what  he  is  charged  with, 
and  listen  to  his  justification." 

"It  shall  be  as  you  wish,  Kate,"  re- 
plied the  king,  "  and  you  shall  yourself 
be  present.  But  let  this  be  our  secret, 
Kate,  and  we  will  accomplish  the  matter 
quietly. — And  now,  John  Hey  wood,  let 
us  hear  your  comedy,  and  woe  betide 
you  if  it  does  not  fulfil  your  promise  of 
making  us  laugh  !  For  you  are  well 
aware  that  in  that  case  you  have  fallen 
a  hopeless  victim  to  the  scourges  of  our 
offended  ladies." 

"  They  shall  flog  me  to  death  if  I  don't 
make  them  laugh !  "  cried  John  Hey- 
wood,  gracefully,  as  he  produced  his 
manuscript. 

Soon  the  hall  once  more  resounded 
with  loud  laughter,  and  amid  the  general 
mirth  it  was  not  observed  that  Bishop 
Gardiner  and  Lord  Douglas  had  elunk 
quietly  out  of  the  saloon. 

For  some  time  they  continued  standing 

outside  in  the  anteroom,  and  gazed  at 

each  other  with  mute  dismay.     Their 

looks  betokened  the  anger  and  chagrin 

13 


which  inwardly  filled  them,  and  they 
mutually  understood  the  unspoken  lan- 
guage expressed  in  each  other's  fea- 
tures. 

"  She  must  die !  "  said  Gardiner, 
with  sententious  brevity.  "  She  has 
slipped  through  our  nets  for  once ;  but 
the  second  time  we  shall  be  careful  to 
tie  our  knots  more  securely  1  " 

"  And  I  hold  the  threads  in  my  hand 
already  from  which  we  shall  weave 
those  nets,"  said  Lord  Douglas.  "To- 
day we  had  falsely  accused  her  of  am- 
orous intrigues.  When  we  do  so  again 
we  shall  have  told  the  truth.  Did  you 
not  observe  the  looks  which  Katharine 
exchanged  with  the  heretical  Thomas 
Seymour,  Lord  Sudley  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  perceived  them." 

"  Those  looks  will  be  her  death,  my 
lord.  The  queen  loves  Thomas  Sey- 
mour, and  this  love  will  seal  her  doom." 

"  Amen,"  responded  Bishop  Gardiner, 
solemnly,  as  he  directed  his  looks  pi- 
ously toward  heaven.  "Amen!  Tho 
queen  has  this  day  bitterly  and  griev- 
ously offended  us.  She  has  insulted 
and  abused  us  before  the  whole  court. 
She  shall  one  day  indemnify  us  for  this. 
The  torture-chamber,  which  she  paint- 
ed with  such  lively  colors,  may  also 
open  its  doors  for  her  one  day — not 
that  she  may  witness  the  agonies  of 
others,  but  that  she  may  suffer  those 
agonies  herself.  "We  shall  one  day  be 
revenged ! " 


BOOK   IT. 


THE     WOMEN'S      WAR, 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE     KEVENGE. 

Miss  HOLLAND,  the  "beautiful  and 
much-admired  mistress  of  the  Duke  of 
Norfolk,  was  alone  in  her  richly- 
adorned  boudoir.  It  was  the  hour 
when  the  duke  usually  paid  his  visits ; 
she  had  therefore  attired  herself  in  her 
most  attractive  manner — in  the  loose, 
flowing  neglige  which  the  duke  so 
much  admired,  as  it  enhanced  the 
charms  and  the  graceful  form  of  his  fair 
friend. 

But  on  this  day  he  had  not  appeared  ; 
instead  of  himself,  his  chamberlain  had 
come,  and  had  brought  Miss  Holland  a 
note  from  the  duke.  She  held  this  note 
in  her  hand,  as,  with  hasty  and  impatient 
steps,  she  paced  her  boudoir  backward 
and  forward.  Her  cheeks  glowed,  and 
her  large,  haughty  eyes  shot  forth  flames 
of  anger. 

She  was  cast  off,  and  had  to  endure 
the  outrage  of  being  rejected  by  her 
lordly  lover. 


There  it  stood,  in  the  letter  which  she 
held  in  her  hand,  and  which  scorched 
her  fingers  like  a  burning  coal, — there 
stood  the  announcement  written,  that  he 
would  see  her  no  more — that  he  re- 
nounced her  love,  and  had  given  her  up. 

Her  whole  form  trembled  as  these 
thoughts  rushed  through  her  mind.  It 
was  not  the  pain  of  lost  love  that  shook 
her  frame;  it  was  the  mortified  pride 
of  her  woman's  nature. 

He  had  forsaken  her.  No  longer  had 
her  youth  and  beauty  the  power  of  cap- 
tivating that  white-haired  old  man  with 
wrinkled  features. 

He  had  written  her  that  it  was  not  of 
her,  but  only  of  love,  that  he  had  grown 
weary  ;  that  his  heart  had  become  old 
and  withered  like  his  face,  and  that  there 
was  no  longer  any  room  left  in  his 
breast  for  love,  but  only  for  ambition. 

Was  not  this  a  most  revolting  and  un- 
heard-of outrage  ?  To  forsake  the  most 
beautiful  woman  in  England  for  the  sake 
of  some  cold,  calculating,  and  wretched 
ambition ! 

She  opened  the  letter  once  more,  and 


THE   REVENGE. 


195 


once  more  perused  the  passage;  and 
said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  while  she 
gnashed  her  teeth — "He  shall  repent 
this !  I'll  be  revenged  for  this  insult !  " 

She  thrust  the  letter  into  her  bosom, 
and  touched  her  silver  bell. 

"Let  my  carriage  be  got  ready,"  she 
said,  addressing  the  servant  who  entered 
at  her  summons,  and  who  bowed  in  si- 
lence to  her  command. 

"  I'll  be  revenged,"  she  murmured,  as 
she  wrapped  herself  in  her  shawl  of 
Turkish  fabric.  "  I'll  be  revenged ;  and 
I  take  Heaven  to  witness  that  it  shall  be 
a  speedy  and  a  bloody  revenge  1  I'll 
show  him  that  I,  too,  am  ambitious,  and 
that  my  pride  won't  bend.  He  said  he 
would  forget  me,  but  I'll  compel  him  to 
think  of  me,  even  though  it  were  only  to 
curse  me." 

"With  rapid  steps  she  hastened  through 
the  brilliant  apartments  which  the  liber- 
ality of  her  admirer  had  so  gorgeously 
decorated,  and  *  descended  to  her  car- 
riage, which  already  awaited  her. 

"  To  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk's,"  she 
said,  addressing  the  footman  who  ap- 
proached the  carriage  door  to  receive  her 
commands. 

The  servant  looked  at  her  with  inquir- 
ing astonishment. 

"  You  mean  the  Duke  of  Norfolk's, 
madam  ? " 

"  Certainly  not.  I  mean  the  Duchess 
of  Norfolk's,"  she  replied,  with  a  frown 
of  displeasure,  as  she  flung  herself  back 
in  her  seat. 

After  a  short  time  the  carriage  stopped 
before  the  mansion  of  the  duchess,  and 
with  a  commanding  air  and  haughty 


step  Miss  Holland  entered  the  vesti- 
bule. 

"  Announce  me  immediately  to  the 
duchess,"  was  her  command  to  the 
servant  who  hastened  forward  at  her 
approach. 

"  Your  name,  madam." 

"  Miss  Arabella  Holland." 

The  servant  started  back,  and  stared 
at  her  with  visible  amazement.  "  Miss 
Arabella  Holland  ?  And  you  wish  me  to 
announce  you  to  her  grace?  " 

A  faint  smile  of  contempt  played  for 
a  moment  around  her  thin  lips.  "I 
see  you  know  me,"  she  replied,  "  and 
you  are  a  little  surprised  at  seeing  me 
here.  Wonder  as  you  will,  my  good 
friend,  only  conduct  me  at  once  to  the 
duchess." 

"I  doubt  if  her  grace  receives  visitors 
to-day,"  stammered  the  man,  with  hesi- 
tation. 

"  Well,  go  and  ask  her,  and  in  order 
that  I  may  know  her  answer  without 
delay,  I  shall  follow  you  myself." 

With  an  air  of  command  she  directed 
the  servant  to  precede  her,  and  he  had 
not  the  courage  to  gainsay  the  proud 
beauty. 

They  passed  along  in  silence  through 
the  principal  apartments,  and  at  length 
stood  before  a  door  hung  with  curtains. 

"  I  must  beg  you  to  remain  here  a  mo- 
ment, madam,"  said  the  servant,  "  while 
1  go  and  announce  you  to  the  duchess, 
who  is  inside  here  in  her  boudoir." 

"Never  mind,  pray — I'll  undertake 
this  duty  myself,"  replied  Miss  Holland, 
forcibly  pushing  the  man  aside,  as  she 
opened  the  door. 


196 


BENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


The  duchess  was  seated  at  her  writing- 
table,  with  her  hack  toward  the  door 
through  which  Arabella  had  entered. 
She  did  not  move  from  her  place,  not 
having  perceived  the  door  open.  She 
went  on  quietly  writing. 

Miss  Holland  walked  with  a  firm  and 
haughty  step  through  the  chamber  un- 
til she  stood  close  by  the  chair  of  the 
duchess. 

"My  lady  duchess,"  she  said,  in  a 
tone  of  calm  self-possession,  "  I  wish  to 
speak  to  yon." 

The  duchess,  with  a  cry  of  surprise, 
looked  up.  "  Miss  Holland !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, suddenly  rising  from  her  seat. 
"What!  you  here  beside  me?  in  my 
own  house?  Pray  what  brings  you 
here  ?  How  dare  you  attempt  to  cross 
my  threshold?" 

"  I  see,  duchess,  you  still  hate  me,  as 
you  have  always  done,"  said  Arabella, 
smiling.  "You  have  not  yet  forgiven 
me  that  your  husband,  the  duke,  found 
more  delight  in  my  face,  which  is  young 
and  beautiful,  than  in  yours,  which  is 
old  and  faded;  that  my  lively  sallies  and 
whimsical  conceits  pleased  him  more 
than  your  cold  reserve  and  conventional 
propriety." 

The  duchess  grew  pale  with  rage,  and 
her  eyes  flashed  with  scorn.  "  Silence !  " 
she  exclaimed.  "Silence!  shameless 
woman,  or  I  shall  call  my  servants  to  rid 
me  of  your  presence." 

"  You  will  not  do  so,  for  I  have  come 
to  conciliate  you,  and  to  offer  you  peace." 

"  Peace  with  you ! "  returned  the  duch- 
ess, with  derisive  contempt.  "  Peace 
with  an  abandoned  creature  who  robbed 


me  of  my  husband — the  father  of  my 
children;  who  exposed  me  to  the  re- 
proach of  standing  before  the  whole 
world  as  a  despised  and  rejected  wife, 
that  I  might  be  compared  with  you.  in 
order  to  decide  which  of  us  both  was 
the  most  worthy  of  his  love.  Peace 
with  you,  indeed !  with  an  insolent  para- 
mour, who  with  wanton  prodigality  dis- 
sipates my  husband's  fortune,  and 
plunders  my  children  of  their  lawful  in- 
heritance, with  infamous  effrontery!" 

"  True  indeed,  the  duke  is  very  gen- 
erous," said  Miss  Holland,  calmly.  "  He 
overwhelms  me  with  jewels  and  with 
gold." 

"For  which  I  am  forced  almost  to 
suffer  want, "re turned  the  duchess,  with 
bitter  emphasis. 

"Want  of  love,  perhaps,  my  lady 
duchess,  but  not  want  of  money ;  for 
you  are  luxuriously  provided  for,  and  it 
is  well  known  that  the  Duchess  of  Nor- 
folk is  rich  enough  to  dispense  with  the 
trifles  which  her  husband  flings  at  my 
feet.  By  Heaven,  my  lady,  Iwould  not 
have  thought  it  worth  while  to  stoop  for 
them,  if  amongst  these  trifles  I  had  not 
also  seen  his  heart.  The  heart  of  a  man 
is  well  worth  the  trouble  of  stooping  for 
it.  This  you  had  neglected  to  do,  and 
for  that  reason  you  lost  your  husband's 
heart.  I  picked  it  up — that  is  all.  Why 
will  you  impute  this  to  me  as  a 
crime  ? " 

"Enough!"  exclaimed  the  duchess. 
"It  does  not  become  me  to  dispute  with 
you,  and  I  only  desire  to  know  how  you 
have  had  the  hardihood  to  come  to 
me." 


THE  REVENGE. 


197 


"  Well,  my  lady  duchess,  and  do  you 
hate  me  only,  or  do  you  also  hate  the 
duke  your  husband?" 

u  She  asks  me  if  I  hate  him!  "  cried 
the  duchess,  with  a  burst  of  scornful 
laughter.  "Yes,  Miss  Holland,  I  hate 
him  as  thoroughly  as  I  despise  you.  I 
hate  him  so  much  that  I  would  give  all 
I  possess — nay,  years  of  my  life — if  I 
could  only  punish  him  for  the  outrage 
which  he  has  offered  me." 

"  Then  in  that  case  we  shall  soon  un- 
derstand each  other,  for  I  also  hate 
him,"  said  Miss  Holland,  as  she  quietly 
took  a  seat  on  the  velvet-covered  otto- 
man and  smiled  at  witnessing  the  speech- 
less astonishment  of  the  duchess. 

"  Yes,  my  lady,  I  hate  him,  and  doubt- 
less more  intensely  and  more  fiercely 
than  you  do  yourself,  for  I  am  young 
and  ardent,  while  you  are  old,  and  have 
always  known  how  to  keep  your  heart 
free  from  emotion." 

The  duchess  quivered  with  suppressed 
rage,  but  she  silently  swallowed  the 
drop  of  gall  with  which  her  malicious 
rival  had  flavored  the  cup  of  joy. 

44  You  say  you  hate  him,  Miss  Hol- 
land ? "  she  asked,  with  evident  satisfac- 
tion. 

44  Yes,  I  hate  him,  and  I  have  come  to 
league  myself  with  you  against  him.  He 
is  a  faithless  man,  a  perjurer — a  traitor, 
and  I  have  resolved  to  be  revenged  for 
the  injury  which  he  has  done  me." 

"Ah,  then  he  has  forsaken  you  too ? " 

44  Yes,  he  has  forsaken  me  too.1' 

"Thank  God!"  exclaimed  the  duch- 
ess, and  her  face  beamed  with  delight. 
44  God  is  great  anil  just,  and  He  has  pun- 


ished you  with  the  instrument  ot  your 
own  guilt.  It  was  for  your  sake  that 
he  left  me,  and  now  he  gives  you  up  for 
the  sake  of  some  other  woman." 

4'  Not  so,  my  lady  duchess ! "  said 
Miss  Holland,  proudly.  "  A  woman  like 
me  is  not  given  up  for  the  sake  of 
another,  and  whoever  loves  me  will  love 
no  one  else  after  me.  There,  read  his 
letter!" 

Saying  which,  she  handed  to  the  duch- 
ess the  letter  of  her  husband. 

44  And  what  do  you  propose  doing 
now  ? "  asked  the  duchess,  as  she  fin- 
ished reading  the  letter. 

44  Til  take  revenge,  my  lady!  He  says 
he  has  no  longer  a  heart  with  which  to 
love;  well,  then,  we  shall  see  that  he 
has  no  longer  a  head  with  which  to 
think.  Will  your  grace  consent  to  be 
my  ally  ? " 

44 1  will" 

"And  I  too,"  said  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond,  who  at  this  moment  opened 
the  door  of  the  adjoining  apartment  and 
entered  the  room. 

Not  a  word  of  this  conversation  had 
escaped  her,  and  she  understood  quite 
well  that  the  question  was  not  one  of 
petty  revenge,  but  one  which  placed  her 
father's  head  in  jeopardy.  She  knew 
that  Miss  Holland  was  not  one  of  those 
women  who  when  provoked  prick  with 
a  needle,  but  one  who  would  seize 
a  dagger  and  stab  her  enemy  to  the 
heart. 

44  Yes,  I,  too,  will  be  your  ally,"  cried 
the  Duchess  of  Richmond.  "  We  have 
all  three  been  injured  by  the  same  man. 
Let  our  revenge  therefore  be  taken  in 


198 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


common.  You  both  have  been  outraged 
by  the  father,  and  I  by  the  son.  Well, 
then,  I  shall  help  you  to  bring  down  the 
father,  if  you  will  lend  your  assistance 
to  annihilate  the  son." 

"  Oh,  I  will  assist  you,"  said  Arabella, 
smiling,  "  for  I  also  hate  the  proud  Earl 
of  Surrey,  who  parades  his  virtue  as  if  it 
were  the  order  of  the  Golden  Fleece, 
which  God  himself  had  fastened  to  his 
breast ;  I  hate  him  because  he  has  al- 
ways treated  me  with  haughty  contempt, 
and  he  alone  is  to  blame  for  the  faith- 
lessness of  his  father." 

"  I  was  present  when  he  besought  the 
duke  our  father  with  tears,  to  escape 
from  the  thraldom  in  which  you  held 
Lim,  and  to  give  up  his  disgraceful  and 
dishonorable  connection  with  you,"  said 
the  young  duchess. 

Arabella  made  no  reply.  But  she 
clasped  her  hands  firmly  together,  and 
a  slight  pallor  overspread  her  cheeks. 

"  And  why  are  you  angry  with  your 
brother  ? "  asked  the  old  duchess,  with  a 
thoughtful  air. 

"  Why  am  I  angry  with  him,  you  ask? 
I  am  not  angry  with  him,  but  I  detest 
him,  and  I  have  made  a  vow  never  to 
rest  until  I  have  had  my  revenge.  My 
happiness,  my  heart,  my  future,  lay  in 
his  hands,  and  he  has  mercilessly  trod- 
den these  most  precious  treasures  of  his 
sister  under  his  proud  feet.  It  lay  with 
him  to  make  me  the  wife  of  the  man  I 
love,  and  he  has  not  done  so — although 
I  besought  him  with  tears  and  supplica- 
tions on.  my  bended  knees." 

"  But  the  sacrifice  which  you  demand- 
ed of  him  was  a  great  one,"  said  her 


mother.  "  It  was  nothing  less  than  to 
bestow  his  hand  on  a  woman  he  did  not 
love,  in  order  that  you  might  become 
the  wife  of  Thomas  Seymour." 

"  You  are  defending  him,  mother,  and 
yet  it  is  he  who  daily  accuses  you — nay, 
it  was  only  yesterday  that  he  thought  it 
quite  natural  and  right  that  the  duke  had 
forsaken  you." 

"  He  thought  that  ? "  said  the  duchess, 
fiercely.  "Then  he  has  forgotten  that 
I  am  his  mother,  and  in  my  turn  I  shall 
forget  that  he  is  my  son.  I  am  your 
confederate.  Revenge  for  our  wounded 
feelings !  Revenge  on  father  and  son !  " 

She  held  out  both  her  hands,  and  the 
two  younger  women  placed  their  hands 
within  hers. 

"  Revenge  on  father  and  son !  "  they 
both  repeated,  and  their  eyes  flashed,  and 
a  crimson  blush  suffused  their  cheeks. 

"  I  am  tired  of  living  here  like  a  re- 
cluse in  my  palace,  banished  from  court 
through  fear  of  meeting  my  husband 
there." 

"  You  are  not  likely  to  meet  him  there 
again,  mother,"  returned  her  daughter, 
laconically. 

"  People  shall  not  have  it  in  their 
power  to  laugh  at  and  mock  me ;  and 
when  they  know  that  he  has  left  me, 
they  shall  know  at  the  same  time  the  re- 
venge I  took  for  it." 

"  Thomas  Seymour  cannot  be  my  hus- 
band so  long  as  Henry  Howard  lives,  for 
he  has  mortally  offended  him,  inasmuch 
as  Henry  Howard  has  rejected  the  hand 
of  his  sister.  Perhaps  I  may  become 
his  wife  when  Henry  Howard  is  no 
more,"  said  the  young  duchess.  "Let 


THE   REVENGE. 


199 


us  therefore  consider  how  we  shall  man- 
age to  take  a  sure  aim,  so  as  to  bring  them 
both  down  together." 

"When  three  women  are  of  one  mind 
they  may  be  certain  of  gaining  their 
end,"  said  Arabella,  with  a  knowing 
glance.  "  We  live,  thank  God,  under  a 
noble  and  magnanimous  king,  who  re- 
gards the  blood  of  his  subjects  with  as 
much  indifference  as  he  does  the  purple 
of  his  royal  robes,  and  who  never 
shrinks  back  from  signing  a  death-war- 
rant."1' 

"But  on  this  occasion  he  will  shrink 
back,"  said  the  old  duchess.  "He  will 
not  venture  to  deprive  the  noblest  and 
most  powerful  men  in  his  kingdom  of 
their  heads." 

"  It  is  just  such  an  enterprise  which 
will  provoke  him,"  replied  Lady  Rich- 
mond, smiling;  "and  the  more  difficult 
it  is  to  remove  these  heads,  the  more  im- 
patiently will  he  strive  to  effect  that  ob- 
ject. The  king  hates  them  both,  and  he 
will  thank  us  for  converting  his  hatred 
into  retributive  justice." 

"  Then  let  us  both  lay  an  accusation  of 
high-treason  against  him,"  cried  Ara- 
bella. "  The  duke  is  a  traitor,  for  I  can 
and  will  prove  that  he  has  often  enough 
called  the  king  a  bloodthirsty  monster 
and  a  merciless  tyrant — a  man  who  has 
neither  honor  nor  faith — although  he 
makes  pretence  to  be  the  source  and 
stronghold  of  all  faith." 

"If  he  has  said  so,  and  that  you 
heard  it,  you  are  bound  to  make  it 
known  to  the  king,  unless  you  wish  to 
be  the  accomplice  of  high-treason  your- 


self," exclaimed  the  young  duchess,  with 
solemn  emphasis. 

"  And  have  you  not  observed  that  for 
some  time  past  the  duke  bears  the  same 
arms  as  the  king? "  asked  the  Duchess  of 
Norfolk.  It  does  not,  forsooth,  suffice 
for  his  proud  and  ambitious  mind  to  be 
the  first  subject  in  the  realm,  but  he 
must  needs  strive  to  become  its  king  and 
ruler." 

"Tell  the  king  so,  and  to-morrow 
morning  the  traitor's  head  falls.  The 
king  is  as  jealous  of  his  kingdom  as  ever 
woman  was  of  the  man  she  held  most 
dear.  Only  tell  him  that  the  duke 
bears  his  royal  arras,  and  his  ruin  is  cer- 
tain." 

"  I  shall  tell  him  so,  my  daughter." 

"Now  we  are  sure  of  the  father,  but 
how  shall  we  deal  with  the  son  ? " 

"By  certain  infallible  means  which 
will  send  him  to  eternity  as  surely  as  the 
hunter's  bullet  sends  the  proudest  stag 
its  death-wound.  Henry  loves  the 
queen,  and  I  shall  convey  proof  thereof 
to  the  king,"  said  the  young  duchess. 

"  Then  let  us  go  at  once  to  the  king !  " 
cried  Arabella,  impatiently. 

"  No,  not  yet !  That  would  cause  sus- 
picion, and  might  frustrate  our  whole 
plan,"  rejoined  the  duchess.  "Let  us 
speak  to  Lord  Douglas  first  and  hear  his 
opinion.  Come,  every  minute  is  pre- 
cious !  We  owe  it  to  our  honor  as  women 
to  be  avenged.  We  ought  not  and  will 
not  leave  unpunished  those  who  despised 
our  love,  mortified  our  honor,  and  tram- 
pled under  foot  the  holiest  ties  of  na- 
ture." 


200 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ACKNOWLEDGED. 

SAD  and  self-contemplative  sat  the 
Princess  Elizabeth  in  her  chamber.  Her 
eyes  were  red  with  tears,  and  she 
pressed  her  hand  to  her  heart,  as  if  to 
stifle  the  painful  emotions  that  were 
struggling  for  utterance. 

With  a  cheerless  and  wandering  gaze 
she  looked  around  the  room,  and  its 
loneliness  on  the  present  occasion  made 
her  doubly  sad,  for  it  bore  witness  to 
her  own  forlorn  condition,  and  to  the 
disgrace  which  still  rested  upon  her. 
Had  it  been  otherwise,  this  day  would 
have  been  a  day  of  congratulations  and 
rejoicing  for  the  whole  court. 

This  was  Elizabeth's  birthday.  On 
this  day  fourteen  years  the  daughter  of 
Anne  Bullen  had  been  ushered  into  life. 

Anne  Bullen's  daughter  1  That  was 
the  secret  of  her  isolation — that  was 
the  reason  why  none  of  the  lords  or  la- 
dies of  the  court  took  any  note  of  her 
birthday,  for  this  would  have  been  to 
call  to  mind  Anne  Bullen — Elizabeth's 
beautiful  but  unhappy  mother — who  had 
to  pay  the  penalty  of  her  greatness  and 
exalted  rank  with  her  life-blood. 

Besides  this,  too,  the  king  had  already 
pronounced  his  daughter  Elizabeth  a 
bastard,  and  had  solemnly  declared  her 
unworthy  of  succeeding  to  the  crown. 

Her  birthday  was  accordingly  a  day 
of  sorrow  and  humiliation  for  Elizabeth. 
Reclining  upon  her  ottoman,  she  be- 
thought her  of  the  contumely  and  joy- 
lessness  of  her  past  life,  and  of  the  dreary 
and  cheerless  future  that  lay  before  her. 


She  was  a  princess,  and  yet  did  not 
possess  her  birthright ;  she  was  a  young 
maiden,  and  yet  doomed  to  renounce  all 
the  pleasures  and  enjoyments  of  her 
youth,  and  to  stifle  the  yearnings  of  her 
ardent  and  passionate  nature  in  perpet- 
ual silence.  For  when  the  Infanta  of 
Spain  had  sued  for  her  hand,  Henry  the 
Eighth  declared  that  Ids  illegitimate 
daughter  Elizabeth  was  unworthy  of  a 
princely  husband.  And  in  order  to  re- 
pulse any  other  suitors,  he  had  declared 
loudly  and  publicly  that  no  subject 
should  dare  be  so  rash  as  to  make  ad- 
vances to  any  royal  daughter  of  his,  at 
the  risk  of  being  punished  as  a  traitor. 

Thus  Elizabeth  was  condemned  to  re- 
main unmarried,  and  yet  she  loved  and 
cherished  but  one  thought,  that  of  be- 
coming the  wife  of  her  beloved,  and  of 
being  one  day  able  to  exchange  her 
proud  title  of  princess  for  the  more 
lowly  one  of  Countess  of  Seymour. 

Ever  since  her  love  began,  a  new  world, 
a  new  sun  had  dawned  upon  her,  and,  in 
presence  of  the  sweet  and  enchanting 
whispers  of  love,  the  haughty  and  allur- 
ing voice  of  ambition  itself  was  forced  to 
be  silent.  She  ceased  to  reflect  that  she 
should  never  be  a  queen,  and  was 
troubled  with  the  sole  thought  that  she 
could  not  be  the  wife  of  Seymour. 

She  had  no  longer  a  wish  to  rule — she 
only  wished  to  be  happy.  But  then  her 
happiness  rested  in  him  alone — in  Thom- 
as Seymour. 

These  were  her  thoughts  on  the  morn- 
ing of  her  birthday,  as  she  sat  in  her 
chamber,  lonely  and  alone;  while  her 
eyes,  red  with  tears,  and  her  lips,  pale 


ACKNOWLEDGED. 


201 


and  quivering,  betrayed  how  much  she 
had  this  day  wept,  and  how  much  this 
youthful  girl  of  fourteen  had  already 
suffered. 

But  she  determined  to  think  no  more 
on  this  subject,  and  not  to  afford  the 
watchful,  prying,  and  malicious  courtiers 
who  surrounded  her,  the  triumph  of  see- 
ing the  traces  of  tears  upon  her  coun- 
tenance, and  of  rejoicing  in  her  suffering 
and  humiliation.  Hers  was  a  proud  and 
resolute  spirit.  She  would  rather  have 
died  than  have  accepted  the  pity  of  those 
haughty  courtiers. 

"I  will  work,"  she  said.  "Labor  is 
the  best  balm  for  sorrow." 

And  she  took  up  the  elaborate  em- 
broidery which  she  had  commenced  for 
her  poor,  unhappy  friend,  Anne  of 
Cleves,  the  rejected  spouse  of  Henry. 
But  the  work  occupied  her  fingers  only, 
not  her  thoughts. 

She  flung  it  aside,  and  seized  a  book. 
It  was  the  Sonnets  of  Petrarch,  and  his 
plaintive  woes  soothed  while  they  moved 
her  own  love-sick  spirit. 

Her  eyes  streaming  with  tears,  and  yet 
smiling  and  filled  with  a  sweet  sadness, 
Elizabeth  read  those  beautiful  and  pa- 
thetic strains  of  the  great  Italian  poet. 
It  seemed  to  her  as  if  Petrarch  had  only 
expressed  what  she  herself  had  so 
warmly  felt.  These  were  her  own 
thoughts,  her  own  sorrows.  He  had 
given  utterance  to  them  in  his  native 
language — she  would  now  repeat  them 
in  her  own.  She  accordingly  seized  a 
pen,  and,  while  her  hands  trembled  with 
sensibility,  and  wholly  carried  away  by 
the  glowing  emotions  of  inspiration  and 


delight,  she  began  the  translation  of  the 
first  sonnet  of  Petrarch. 

A  loud  knock  interrupted  her,  and 
through  the  suddenly-opened  door  ad- 
vanced the  stately  and  graceful  form  of 
Katharine. 

"The  queen!"  exclaimed  Elizabeth, 
joyfully.  "  How  kind  of  you  to  come  to 
me  so  early  in  the  morning !  " 

"  Should  I  then  have  waited  until  even- 
ing to  wish  my  Elizabeth  joy  on  her 
birthday — should  I  first  have  allowed  the 
sun  to  go  down  on  this  day,  which  has 
given  to  England  so  noble  and  lovely  a 
princess?"  asked  Katharine;  "or  did 
you  perchance  think  I  had  forgotten 
that  this  is  your  birthday,  and  that  my 
Elizabeth  on  this  day  bids  farewell  to 
the  years  of  childhood,  and  commences 
her  career  as  a  proud  and  hopeful 
maiden  ? " 

"Hopeful?"  said  Elizabeth,  sadly. 
"  The  daughter  of  Anne  Bullen  has  no 
hopes,  and  when  you  speak  of  my  birth- 
day you  remind  me  at  the  same  time  of 
the  disgrace  attached  to  my  birth." 

"  It  shall  no  longer  be  so !  "  exclaimed 
Katharine,  and,  putting  her  arm  affec- 
tionately round  Elizabeth's  neck,  she 
placed  a  small  roll  of  parchment  in  her 
hands. 

"  Take  this  document,  Elizabeth,  and 
may  it  be  to  you  the  promise  of  a  happy 
and  brilliant  future !  The  king,  at  my 
request,  has  granted  this  patent,  and  he 
has  at  the  same  time  accorded  me 
the  pleasure  of  bringing  it  to  you  my- 
self." 

Elizabeth  opened  the  parchment,  and 
when  she  had  read  it,  an  expression  of 


202 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


beaming  delight  overspread  her  counte- 
nance. 

"Acknowledged!  I  am  acknowledg- 
ed !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  The  stigma  of 
my  birth  has  been  removed.  Elizabeth 
is  no  longer  illegitimate — she  is  a  royal 
princess !  " 

"And  she  may  one  day  become  a 
queen !  "  added  Katharine,  smiling. 

"Oh,"  cried  Elizabeth,  "that  is  not 
what  makes  me  feel  so  happy !  But  the 
stigma  has  been  taken  away  from  me, 
and  now  I  can  hold  up  my  head  freely, 
and  mention  the  name  of  my  mother 
without  shame.  Oh,  mother,  my  own 
mother! — Thou  canst  now  rest  peace- 
fully in  thy  grave,  for  it  is  no  longer  dis- 
honored! Anne  Bullen  was  no  royal 
mistress,  she  was  King  Henry's  lawful 
wife,  and  Elizabeth  is  her  king's  lawful 
daughter.  I  thank  Thee,  my  God!  I 
thank  Thee!" 

And  the  young,  enthusiastic  girl  flung 
herself  on  her  knees,  and  lifted  her 
hands  and  eyes  to  heaven. 

"Spirit  of  my  sainted  mother,"  she 
continued,  in  accents  of  solemn  emotion, 
"  I  call  upon  thee !  Oh,  come  to  me,  and 
overshadow  me  with  thy  smile,  and 
bless  me  with  thy  breath!  Queen  Anne 
of  England,  thy  daughter  is  no  longer 
base-born,  and  no  one  shall  henceforth 
dare  to  asperse  her.  Thou  wast  near  me, 
mother,  when  I  wept  and  suffered,  and 
often  in  my  disgrace  and  humiliation  I 
felt  as  if  I  heard  thy  voice  whispering 
comfort  to  me — as  if  I  saw  thine  own 
angelic  eyes  shedding  beams  of  peace 
and  love  into  my  heart !  Oh,  stay  with 
me  now,  too,  mother — now  that  the 


stigma  is  removed  from  me ;  stay  with 
me  in  the  day  of  prosperity,  and  watch 
over  my  heart,  that  it  may  be  kept  free 
from  pride  and  arrogance,  and  may  still 
continue  humble  in  good  fortune !  Anne 
Bullen,  they  once  laid  thy  innocent  and 
beautiful  head  upon  the  block,  but  this 
parchment  -  scroll  replaces  the  royal 
crown  upon  that  head,  and  woe,  woe  to 
those  who  shall  dare  to  insult  thy 
memory!  " 

She  suddenly  rose  from  her  knees, 
and  rushed  toward  the  wall  opposite,  on 
which  hung  a  large  oil  painting,  which 
represented  herself  as  a  little  child  play- 
ing with  a  dog. 

"  Oh,  mother,  mother !  "  she  exclaim- 
ed, "this  picture  was  the  last  earthly 
object  on  which  thy  looks  rested,  and 
upon  the  inanimate  lips  of  thy  child  here 
painted  thou  didst  bestow  the  last  kiss, 
which  thy  cruel  persecutors  would  not 
suffer  the  living  child  to  receive. 

"  Oh,  let  me  drink  away  this  kiss 
from  the  canvas,  let  my  lips  touch  the 
spot  which  thine  have  sanctified !  "  . 

She  bent  forward  and  kissed  the  pic- 
ture with  tenderness  and  rapture. 

"And  now  come  forth  from  thy 
grave,  my  mother,"  she  continued,  sol- 
emnly. "  I  have  so  long  been  obliged 
to  hide  and  cover  thee  up.  Once  more 
thou  mayst  see  the  world  and  the 
light  of  day !  The  king  has  acknowl- 
edged me  to  be  his  lawful  daughter, 
and  he  cannot  refuse  to  have  the  pic- 
ture of  my  own  mother  in  my  room." 

So  saying,  she  pressed  a  spring  in- 
serted in  the  gold  frame  of  tho  picture, 
which  suddenly  moved  and  opened  like 


ACKNOWLEDGED. 


203 


a  door,  disclosing  to  view  another  pic- 
ture concealed  behind,  which  represent- 
ed the  hapless  Anne  Bullen  in  her  bridal 
robes,  in  the  full  splendor  of  youth  and 
beauty,  as  Holbein  had  painted  her,  at 
the  desire  of  King  Henry  her  hus- 
band. 

"  What  a  beautiful  and  angelic  face!  " 
said  Katharine,  approaching.  "What 
pure  and  innocent  features!  And  yet, 
unhappy  queen,  thy  enemies  succeeded 
in  fixing  suspicion  upon  thee,  and  lead- 
ing thee  to  the  scaffold.  Alas,  when  I 
look  at  thee  I  shudder,  and  my  own  fu- 
ture rises  before  me  like  a  threatening 
spectre.  Who  can  be  safe  and  free  from 
danger,  when  Anne  Bullen  was  not  safe, 
but  was  doomed  to  suffer  an  ignomini- 
ous death  ?  Ah,  believe  me,  Elizabeth, 
it  is  a  melanchdly  fate  to  be  Queen  of 
England,  and  many  a  time  have  I  asked 
myself  in  the  morning  if  I  should  still  be 
greeted  as  queen  in  the  evening.  We 
must  not,  however,  speak  of  me  at  the 
present  moment,  but  only  of  you,  Eliza- 
beth— of  your  future,  and  of  your  hap- 
piness. May  this  parchment  prove  ac- 
ceptable to  you,  and  may  it  be  the  means 
of  realizing  all  the  wishes  that  slumber 
in  your  bosom !  " 

<;  One  great  wish  it  has  already  ful- 
filled," said  Elizabeth,  still  intently  gaz- 
ing on  the  picture — "  it  gives  me  the 
privilege  of  uncovering  the  portrait  of 
my  mother.  That  I  might  be  able  to  do 
so  one  day  was  her  last  prayer,  and  the 
last  wish  which  she  charged  John  Hey- 
wood  to  convey  to  me.  To  him  she 
committed  this  picture  for  me.  He 
alone  knew  the  secret  of  its  hiding- 


place,   which  secret    he    has  faithfully 
kept," 

u  Oh,  John  Hey  wood  is  a  trusty  and  a 
true  friend,"  said  Katharine,  earnestly, 
"  and  it  was  he  who  assisted  me  to  in- 
cline the  king's  mind  to  our  projects, 
and  move  him  at  a  favorable  moment  to 
acknowledge  you." 

Elizabeth  seized  the  hand  of  her  friend 
with  an  expression  of  unspeakable  de- 
light. "To  you,"  she  said,  "I  owe  my 
own  honor  and  the  honor  of  my  mother ; 
I  shall  always  love  you  as  a  daughter 
for  it,  and  never  shall  your  enemies  find 
in  me  a  ready  listener  or  an  adherent. 
Let  us  both  enter  into  a  mutual  league, 
offensive  and  defensive !  Let  us  keep  true 
to  each  other,  and  the  enemies  of  the 
OH0  shall  be  the  enemies  of  the  other, 
and  whenever  we  see  danger  we  will  op- 
pose it  in  common,  and  with  the  faithful 
eyes  of  sisters  we  shall  watch  over  and 
warn  each  other,  if  any  accidental  gleam 
of  light  should  reveal  to  us  an  enemy 
who  may  be  lurking  in  the  dark, 
ready  to  stab  us  unawares  with  his 
;er." 

"Beit  so!  "  said  Katharine,  earnestly. 
"  We  will  stand  by  one  another  faith- 
fully and  inseparably,  and  love  each 
other  like  sisters." 

And  pressing  an  affectionate  kiss  on 
the  lips  of  Elizabeth,  she  continued : 
"  But  now,  princess,  turn  your  attention 
once  more  to  that  parchment,  of  which 
you  have  as  yet  only  read  the  beginning. 
Believe  me,  it  is  of  sufficient  importance 
for  you  to  read  it  to  the  end  ;  for  it  con- 
tains various  provisions  respecting  your 
future  welfare,  and  appoints  for  you  an 


204 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


annual  income  and  a  household  suitable 
to  the  rank  of  a  royal  princess." 

"  Oh,  what  care  I  for  such  things  1  " 
cried  Elizabeth,  gayly.  "That's  my 
steward's  concern — let  him  look  after 
those  matters." 

"  But  there  is  still  another  paragraph 
which  will  interest  you  even  more,"  said 
Katharine  with  a  sweet  smile,  "for 
there  is  a  new  and  complete  reparation 
of  honor  for  my  proud  and  ambitious 
Elizabeth.  Do  you  remember  the  an- 
swer which  your  father  gave  the  King 
of  France,  when  the  latter  made  suit  for 
your  hand  for  his  son  the  dauphin  ?  " 

"  Do  I  remember  it? "  cried  Elizabeth, 

as  her  brow  became  suddenly  clouded. 

"  King  Henry  said  that  the  daughter  of 

m  Anne  Bullen  was  not  worthy  to  receive 

the  hand  of  a  royal  prince." 

"  Well  then,  Elizabeth,  in  order  that 
the  restoration  of  honor  in  your  favor 
shall  be  complete,  the  king,  in  confer- 
ring upon  you  your  rightful  title  and 
dignity,  has  decreed  that  you  should 
only  espouse  a  husband  of  equal  birth 
with  your  own,  and  that  you  cannot  be- 
stow your  hand  upon  any  other  than  a 
prince  of  royal  blood,  if  you  would  pre- 
serve your  right  of  succession  to  the 
throne.  Indeed,  there  could  be  no  more 
complete  reparation  for  the  former 
wrong  done  you;  and  for  the  king's 
having  consented  to  do  so  you  are  in- 
debted to  the  eloquent  pleading  of  a  faith- 
ful and  trusty  friend— I  mean  John  Hey- 
wood." 

"John  Hey  wood  !  "  cried  Elizabeth,  in 
an  angry  tone.  "Oh,  I  thank  you, 
queen,  that  it  was  not  you  who  deter- 


mined my  father  to  make  this  decree. 
What!  John  Hey  wood  has  done  so,  and 
yet  you  call  him  my  friend?  You  say 
that  he  is  a  true  and  devoted  servant  to 
us  both  ?  Beware  of  his  fidelity,  queen, 
and  build  not  upon  his  devotedness,  for 
I  tell  you  his  heart  is  filled  with  deceit, 
and  while  he  appears  to  bow  humbly  be- 
fore you,  his  eyes  are  only  seeking  for  a 
vulnerable  spot  to  strike  a  sure  and  deadly 
blow.  Ah,  he  is  a  serpent — a  venomous 
serpent— and  he  has  just  inflicted  upon 
me  an  incurable  and  mortal  wound. 

"But  no,"  she  continued,  with  energy, 
"  I  shall  not  submit  to  this  wily  artifice — 
I  will  not  be  the  slave  of  this  untoward 
decree !  I  wish  to  be  free  to  love  or  to 
hate  as  my  heart  dictates.  I  will  not 
suffer  myself  to  be  chained  down  and 
compelled  to  renounce  the  man  I  might 
love,  and  to  marry  one  whom  I  should 
perhaps  loathe  and  detest." 

With  a  look  of  firm  and  resolute  deci- 
sion she  took  the  roll  of  parchment  and 
handed  it  back  to  Katharine. 

"Take  back  this  parchment,  queen, 
and  return  it  to  my  father  again,  and  tell 
him  that  I  thank  him  for  his  considerate 
kindness,  but  that  I  renounce  the  bril- 
liant destiny  which  this  act  offers  me. 
I  love  liberty  so  well  that  even  a  royal 
crown  cannot  entice  me,  if  I  am  to  re- 
ceive it  with  shackled  hands  and  with  a 
heart  no  longer  free !  " 

"Poor  child,"  said  Katharine,  with  a 
sigh,  "you  little  know  how  a  royal 
crown  always  surrounds  us  with  chains, 
and  compels  us  to  wear  cramping-irons 
on  our  hearts.  Ah,  you  would  be  free, 
and  still  be  a  queen  1  Trust  me,  Eliza- 


ACKNOWLEDGED. 


beth,  there  are  none  who  are  less  at  lib- 
erty than  crowned  heads ;  there  are  none 
who  have  less  right  or  power  to  dispose 
of  their  hearts  than  princes." 

"  Then  in  that  case,"  cried  Elizabeth, 
with  flashing  eyes,  "I  renounce  the 
dreary  prospect  of  perhaps  one  day  he- 
coming  a  queen.  In  that  case  I  must 
reject  the  decree  which  would  hind  my 
affections  and  control  my  will.  What, 
the  daughter  of  King  Henry  of  England 
suffer  her  course  to  be  prescribed  by  a 
paltry  sheet  of  parchment,  or  allow  her 
heart  and  her  actions  to  be  hampered 
for  life  by  a  wretched  brief?  I  am  a 
royal  princess,  and  therefore  I  am  to  be 
compelled,  forsooth,  to  bestow  my  hand 
upon  none  other  than  a  royal  prince? 
Yes,  you  were  right — it  was  not  my  fa- 
ther who  laid  down  this  law ;  for  his  own 
proud  spirit  would  never  brook  the  con- 
straint of  such  miserable  etiquette.  He 
loved  as  his  inclinations  directed,  and  no 
Parliament  or  law  had  power  to  prevent 
him.  I  intend  to  be  the  true  daughter 
of  my  father  in  this  respect.  I  won't 
submit  to  this  decree!  " 

"Poor  child,"  returned  Katharine, 
"you  will  nevertheless  have  to  learn  to 
submit — for  one  cannot  be  a  princess 
with  impunity.  People  never  ask  if  our 
hearts  bleed.  They  throw  a  purple  robe 
around  us,  and  if  this  should  be  crimsoned 
with  our  heart's  blood,  who  is  there  to 
perceive  or  suspect  it  ?  You  are  still  so 
very  young,  Elizabeth,  and  you  still  hope 
for  so  much !  " 

"  I  hope  for  so  much  because  I  have 
already  suffered  so  much— I  have  al- 
ready been  forced  to  shed  so  many  tears. 


205 

Already,  in  my  childtu 
pelled  to  take  my  share  of  the  sorrows 
and  sufferings  of  life  in  advance  of  my 
age,  and  now  I  shall  determine  for  my- 
self my  portion  of  life's  happiness  and 
enjoyment." 

"  And  who  has  told  you  that  you  shall 
not  have  it?  This  law,  in  reality,  im- 
poses upon  you  no  particular  husband  ; 
it  only  gives  you  the  proud  and  once- 
disputed  right  of  choosing  for  yourself 
a  husband  from  among  the  sons  of 
kings." 

"  Oh,"  cried  Elizabeth,  and  her  eyes 
flashed,  "  if  I  were  really  to  become  a 
queen  one  day,  I  should  feel  prouder  in 
choosing  a  husband  whom  T  could  raise 
to  a  throne,  than  one  who  could  place  a 
crown  on  my  own  head.  You  will  own, 
Katharine,  that  it  must  be  a  proud  and 
happy  privilege  to  bestow  greatness  and 
splendor  on  the  being  that  we  love,  and 
in  the  fulness  of  our  love  to  elevate  him 
above  all  other  men,  and  humbly  to  lay 
down  at  his  feet  our  own  greatness  and 
majesty,  in  order  that  he  may  invest 
himself  therewith,  and  appropriate  as 
his  own  what  had  been" % ours !  " 

u  I  vow,"  said  Katharine,  smiling, 
"  you  are  as  proud  and  ambitious  as  a 
man.  The  true  daughter  of  your  fa- 
ther !  So  thought  Henry  when  he  gave 
his  hand  to  Anne  Bullen, — so  thought 
he,  too,  when  he  raised  me  to  be  his 
queen.  But  it  becomes  him  to  think 
and  to  act  so,  for  he  is  a  man." 

"  He  thought  so  because  he  loved — not 
because  he  was  a  man." 

"  And  you  also,  Elizabeth— you  think 
so  because,  perhaps,  you  love  ?  " 


206 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


"Yes,  I  love!"  cried  Elizabeth,  as 
she  flung  herself  with  violent  emotion 
into  Katharine's  arras,  and  hid  her 
blushing  cheeks  on  the  queen's  bosom. 
"  Yes,  I  love !  And  my  love  is  like  that 
of  my  father — not  regarding  my  rank  or 
birth,  but  only  feeling  that  my  beloved 
is  my  equal  in  all  that  constitutes  true  no- 
bility of  mind  and  spirit,  and  in  greatness 
of  soul ;  that  he  is  superior  to  me  in  all 
those  noble  and  lofty  qualities  which 
should  adorn  a  man,  and  yet  which  are 
accorded  to  so  few.  Judge,  therefore, 
queen,  if  this  decree  can  make  me 
happy.  The  man  whom  I  love  is  not  a 
prince — he  is  not  the  son  of  a  king." 

"My  poor  Elizabeth!"  said  Katha- 
rine, embracing  the  young  girl  tenderly 
in  her  arms. 

"And  why  do  you  pity  me,  since  it  is 
in  your  power  to  make  me  happy?" 
asked  Elizabeth,  urgently.  "  It  was  you 
who  moved  the  king  to  free  me  from  the 
stiguna  that  rested  upon  me.  You  will 
also  have  influence  over  him  to  annul 
this  clause,  which  contains  the  sentence 
of  doom  for  my  heart." 

Katharine  shook  her  head  with  a 
sigh.  "  My  power  does  not  extend  so 
far,"  she  replied,  sorrowfully.  "Ah, 
Elizabeth,  why  had  you  no  confidence 
in  me  ?  why  did  you  not  inform  me  soon- 
er of  this  love  which  you  cherish,  and 
which  is  at  variance  with  this  decree  ? 
Why  did  you  not  acquaint  your  friend 
with  this  dangerous  secret  ?  " 

"It  is  just  because  it  is  dangerous 
that  I  withheld  it  from  you,  and  for 
this  reason,  too,  I  cannot  now  inform  you 
of  the  name  of  my  beloved.  Through 


my  means,  at  least,  you  shall  not  be- 
come liable  to  the  guilt  of  high-treason 
toward  your  husband ;  for  you  are  well 
aware  that  he  punishes  every  secret  not 
revealed  to  him,  as  a  treasonable  crime. 
No,  queen,  if  I  am  culpable,  you  shall 
not  be  my  accomplice.  It  is  always 
dangerous  to  be  the  confidante  of  such  a 
secret.  That  you  may  see  in  the  case  of 
John  Heywood.  He  alone  was  ray  con- 
fidant, and  he  betrayed  me.  It  was  I 
myself  who  put  the  weapons  into  his 
hands,  and  he  turned  them  against  me." 

"No,  no,"  said  Katharine,  thought- 
fully, "John  Hey  wood  is  faithful  and 
trustworthy,  and  incapable  of  any 
treachery." 

"He  has  betrayed  me,"  cried  Eliza- 
beth, angrily.  "  He  alone  knew  that  I 
loved,  and  that  my  lover,  although  of 
noble,  is  still  not  of  princely  birth. 
And,  yet  it  was  he  who,  as  you  tell 
me,  moved  the  king  to  introduce  this 
clause  into  the  act  of  succession." 

"  Then,  doubtless,  he  only  wished  to 
save  you  from  an  error  of  feeling  or  judg- 
ment." 

"  No,  he  feared  to  possess  the  danger- 
ous knowledge  of  this  secret ;  and,  at  the 
cost  of  my  happiness  and  affections,  he 
wished  to  obviate  this  danger.  But  oh, 
Katharine,  you  at  least  are  noble,  gener- 
ous, and  firm — you  are  incapable  of  such 
petty  fears  and  base  calculations ;  help 
me,  therefore ;  be  my  deliverer  and  pro- 
tectress. By  virtue  of  the  vow  which 
we  have  already  pledged  to  each  other, 
by  virtue  of  that  alliance  into  which  we 
have  mutually  entered,  I  call  upon  you 
to  aid  and  assist  me.  Oh,  Katharine, 


INTRIGUES. 


207 


grant  me  the  proud  and  blissful  happi- 
ness of  being  enabled  one  day,  perhaps, 
to  make  him  whom  I  love  great  and 
powerful  through  my  own  will — grant 
me  the  intoxicating  joy  of  being  able  to 
offer  to  his  ambition,  with  my  own 
hand,  power  and  splendor,  and  perhaps 
even  a  crown.  Oh,  Katharine,  on  my 
knees  I  implore  you,  help  rne  to  over- 
throw this  odious  decree,  which  binds 
my  heart  and  hand  I  " 

With  impassioned  emotion  she  had 
flung  herself  on  her  knees  before  the 
queen,  and  she  now  lifted  her  hands  in  an 
attitude  of  supplication. 

Katharine  bent,  smiling,  over  her,  and 
raised  her  np  in  her  arms.  "Enthusi- 
ast !  "  she  said — "  poor  young  enthusi- 
ast !  Who  knows  if  you  would  one  day 
thank  me  were  I  to  grant  your  request ; 
nay,  you  might  curse  the  hour  which, 
instead  of  the  hoped-for  happiness, 
should  have  brought  you  delusion  and 
sorrow !  " 

uEven  though  it  were  so,"  cried 
Elizabeth,  with  energy,  "  it  is  better  to 
bear  self-chosen  misfortune,  than  to  be 
coerced  into  happiness.  Say,  Katha- 
rine, say,  will  you  succor  me?  Will  you 
urge  the  king  to  retract  this  hateful 
clause  ?  If  you  will  not,  I  swear,  queen, 
by  the  spirit  of  my  mother,  that  I  will 
not  obey  the  law,  that  I  will  solemnly 
and  before  all  the  world  renounce  the 
privileges  offered  me,  and  that  I — " 

"You  are  a  dear,  foolish  child,"  inter- 
rupted Katharine,  "a  child  which,  in 
youthful  self-will,  would  be  rash  enough 
to  bring  down  lightning  from  heaven, 
and  even  to  borrow  thunderbolts  from 


Jove  himself.  Yes,  you  are  very  young 
and  inexperienced  not  to  know  that 
Fate  heeds  not  our  sighs  or  murmurs, 
and  despite  our  struggles  or  gainsaying, 
it  will  only  lead  us  the  way  it  chooses, 
and  not  that  which  we  prefer.  You 
will  yet  have  to  learn  that,  poor  child !  " 

"  But  I  will  not !  "  cried  Elizabeth, 
stamping  on  the  floor  with  all  the  way- 
wardness of  a  child.  "I  will  not  be 
evermore  and  eternally  the  victim  of 
another's  caprice ;  and  even  Fate  itself 
shall  not  make  me  its  slave." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see,"  said  Katharine, 
smiling.  "At  all  events  we  will  try  for 
this  time  to  fight  against  Fate;  and  I 
shall  assist  you  if  I  can." 

"  Then  I  shall  love  you  as  my  mother 
and  my  sister,  if  you  will,"  cried  Eliza- 
beth, as  she  flung  herself  with  impas- 
sioned tenderness  into  Katharine's  arms. 
"  Yes,  I  shall  love  you  for  this,  and  I 
shall  pray  God  to  give  me  the  opportu- 
nity of  one  day  proving  to  you  my  grat- 
itude, and  of  rewarding  you  for  yonr 
generosity  and  kindness." 


CHAPTER  III. 

INTKIGTJES. 

FOR  some  days  past  the  king's  suffer- 
ings from  his  feet  had  grown  worse, 
and,  much  to  his  discomfiture  and  anger, 
had  confined  him  a  prisoner  in  his  arm- 
chair carriage. 

It  was  therefore  very  natural  that  the 
king  should  be  sullen  and  morose,  and 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


that  he  should  hurl  the  lightning  of  his 
anger  at  all  those  who  enjoyed  the 
melancholy  preeminence  of  being  near 
his  person.  His  sufferings,  so  far  from 
subduing  his  temper,  only  served  to  in- 
crease his  natural  ferocity,  and  ever  and 
anon  might  be  heard  echoing  through 
the  chambers  of  Whitehall  palace  the  fu- 
rious bellowing.-*  of  the  king,  and  his 
loud  invectives,  which  now  spared  no 
one,  regardless  of  rank  or  dignity. 

Lorcl  Douglas,  Gardiner,  and  "Wriothes- 
ley  understood  quite  well  how  to  turn 
this  angry  mood  of  the  king  to  account, 
and  to  procure  for  the  pain-stricken 
monarch,  at  least,  some  compensation 
for  his  suffering,  namely — the  satisfac- 
tion of  making  others  suffer  also. 

Never  had  so  many  scaffolds  been 
seen  in  England,  as  in  these  days  of  the 
king's  illness — never  had  the  dungeons 
been  so  filled  with  victims — never  had 
so  much  blood  been  shed,  as  King  Henry 
now  caused  to  flow. 

But  all  this  did  not  yet  suffice  to  ap- 
pease the  anger  and  thirst  for  blood  of 
the  king — of  his  friends,  counsellors, 
and  priests. 

There  still  remained  two  powerful 
mainstays  of  Protestantism,  which  Gar- 
diner and  Wriothesley  had  resolved  to 
overthrow — these  were  the  queen  and 
Archbishop  Cranmer. 

There  were  still  two  powerful  and 
hated  enemies  whom  the  Seymours 
had  to  vanquish,  and  these  were  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  and  his  son,  the  Earl 
of  Surrey. 

But  the  different  parties,  who,  by 
turns,  besieged  and  commanded  the  ear 


of  the  king,  were  at  once  inflamed  with 
the  most  singular  hostility,  and  with  the 
bitterest  animosity  toward  each  other, 
and  mutually  strove  to  supplant  one 
another  in  the  king's  good  graces. 

To  the  popish  party  of  Gardiner  and 
Lord  Douglas,  it  was  all-important  to 
oust  the  Seymours  from  the  king's  favor, 
and  these,  in  their  turn,  wished  above 
all  things  to  keep  in  their  power  the 
young  queen,  who  was  inclined  toward 
them,  and  to  destroy  the  Duke  of  Nor- 
folk, one  of  the  most  powerful  chiefs  of 
the  papal  side. 

The  one  party  commanded  the  ear  of 
the  king  through  the  medium  of  the 
queen — the  other  through  that  of  his 
favorite,  Lord  Douglas. 

Never  had  the  king  been  more  gra- 
cious and  kind  to  his  consort — never  had 
he  stood  more  in  need  of  the  presence 
of  Lord  Douglas,  than  in  those  days  of 
his  illness  and  bodily  suffering. 

But  there  was  yet  a  third  party  which 
held  an  important  place  in  the  king's 
favor — a  power  which  everybody  feared, 
and  which  appeared  to  keep  itself  wholly 
independent  and  free  from  all  foreign 
influences.  This  power  was  John  Hey- 
wood,  the  king's  jester— the  satirist 
dreaded  by  the  whole  court. 

One  person  alone  had  influence  over 
him.  John  Heywood  was  the  friend  of 
the  queen.  For  the  moment,  therefore, 
it  seemed  as  if  the  "heretical  party," 
of  whom  the  queen  was  regarded  as  the 
head,  was  the  most  powerful  at  court. 

It  was  accordingly  very  natural  that 
the  papists  should  entertain  the  bitter- 
est hatred  against  the  queen — very  natu- 


INTRIGUES. 


209 


ral  that  they  should  always  contrive 
new  plans  and  schemes  to  ruin  her,  and 
to  hurl  her  from  the  throne. 

But  'Katharine  well  knew  the  danger 
which  threatened  her,  and  she  was  on 
"her  guard.  She  kept  watch  over  every 
word  she  uttered,  and  even  over  her 
looks ;  and  Gardiner  and  Wriothesley 
could  not  scrutinize  more  searchingly, 
day  hy  day,  and  hour  by  hour,  the  mode 
of  life  of  the  queen,  than  she  did  herself. 

She  saw  the  sword  which  daily  hung 
over  her  head,  and  thanks  to  her  pru- 
dence and  presence  of  mind — thanks  to 
the  ever-active  watchfulness  and  cunning 
of  her  friend  John  Hey  wood,  she  had  al- 
ways been  able  to  ward  off  the  impend- 
ing ^word. 

Ever  since  the  day  of  the  eventful  excur- 
sion to  Epping  Forest,  she  had  not  spoken 
to  Thomas  Seymour  alone,  for  Katharine 
knew  full  well  that  on  whatever  side  she 
turned  her  steps,  some  prying  eye  would 
follow  her,  and  some  lurking  ear  would 
penetrate,  which  would  overhear  her 
most  softly-whispered  words,  and  repeat 
them  where  they  must  be  interpreted  to 
her  condemnation — to  her  death.  * 

She  had  accordingly  renounced  the 
pleasure  of  speaking  to  her  beloved,  ex- 
cept before  witnesses,  or  of  seeing  him, 
unless  in  the  presence  of  her  whole 
court. 

But  after  all,  what  need  had  she  of 
secret  meetings — what  did  her  pure  and 
guileless  heart  seek,  that  she  might  not 
be  with  him  alone  ?  She  was  always  at 
liberty  to  see  him,  and  to  imbibe  fresh 
draughts  of  happiness  and  fortitude  from 
the  sight  of  his  noble  and  handsome 
14 


countenance;  he  was  always  free  to  be 
near  her,  and  she  could  listen  to  the. 
music  of  his  words,  and  gladden  her 
heart  with  the  sound  of  his  manly  and 
sonorous  voice. 

Katharine,  though  a  woman  of  eight- 
and-twenty,  still  possessed  the  enthusi- 
asm and  innocence  of  a  young  girl  of 
sixteen.  Thomas  Seymour  was  her  first 
love,  and  she  loved  him  with  that  chaste 
and  pure  ardor  which  is  peculiar  to  a 
first  passion. 

It,  therefore,  sufficed  her  to  see  him, 
to  be  near  him,  to  know  that  he  loved 
her — that  he  was  faithful  to  her ;  that 
to  her  belonged  all  his  thoughts,  all  his 
wishes, — as  hers  belonged  to  him. 

All  this  she  knew.  For  still  there  re- 
mained to  her  the  sweet  enjoyment  of 
his  letters — those  impassioned  declara- 
tions, those  memorials  of  his  love ;  and, 
though  she  could  not  tell  him  in  words 
how  ardently  she  returned  his  love,  she 
yet  could  express  her  thoughts  in  writ- 
ing. 

It  was  John  Hey  wood,  the  faithful 
and  discreet  friend,  who  brought  those 
letters  to  her,  who  conveyed  her  an- 
swers back  in  return,  and  who,  as  the 
reward  for  these  dangerous  messages, 
only  stipulated  that  both  should  regard 
him  as  the  sole  witness  of  their  love,  and 
that  they  should  both  destroy  the  letters 
which  he  brought  them.  He  had  not 
been  able  to  prevent  Katharine  from 
yielding  to  this  fatal  passion,  but  he 
wished  at  least  to  preserve  her  from  its 
deadly  consequences.  Knowing  that  her 
love  required  a  confidant,  he  had  assum- 
ed this  character,  in  order  that  Katha- 


210 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


rine,  in  the  ardent  impetuosity  of  her  in- 
nocent heart,  should  not  make  others 
the  witnesses  of  her  dangerous  se- 
cret. 

John  Heywood  accordingly  watched 
over  the  safety  and  happiness  of  Katha- 
rine, as,  in  her  turn,  she  watched  over 
Thomas  Seymour  and  her  friends.  He 
protected  and  defended  her  with  the 
king,  as  she  defended  Cranmer,  and  pro- 
tected him  against  the  repeated  attacks 
of  his  enemies. 

That  she  had  saved  the  noble  and  lib- 
eral-minded Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
from  their  toils,  was  what  they  could 
never  forgive  her.  On  more  than  one 
occasion,  Katharine  had  succeeded  in 
frustrating  their  wily  plots,  and  in  de- 
stroying the  nets  which  Gardiner  and 
Lord  Douglas  had  so  craftily  and  so 
adroitly  spread  for  Cranmer. 

If,  then,  they  would  overthrow  Cran- 
mer, they  must  first  overthrow  the 
queen.  To  this  end  there  was  a  power- 
ful means — a  means  of  at  once  annihi- 
lating the  queen  and  the  detested  Sey- 
mours, who  stood  in  the  way  of  the  pa- 
pists. 

Could  they  but  prove  to  the  king  that 
Katharine  maintained  culpable  corre- 
spondence and  relationships  with  Thomas 
Seymour,  both  were  lost,  and  the  power 
and  supremacy  of  the  papal  party  were 
secured. 

But  whence  obtain  the  proofs  of  this 
dangerous  secret,  which  the  astute  Lord 
Douglas  had  only  read  in  Katharine's 
eyes,  and  for  which  he  had  no  other 
grounds  but  his  own  impressions  ?  By 
what  means  should  the  queen  be  moved 


to  take  some  inconsiderate  step,  which 
would  furnish  speaking  evidence  of  her 
love? 

The  king  was  growing  so  weary — it 
would  be  so  easy  to  persuade  him  to 
some  deed  of  atrocity — some  speedy  sen- 
tence of  death  I 

But  it  was  not  the  blood  of  the  Sey- 
mours for  which  the  king  thirsted.  This 
Lord  Douglas  well  knew.  He,  who  ob- 
served the  king  day  and  night,  who 
probed  and  sounded  his  every  sigh,  his 
most  softly-murmured  words,  every  con- 
vulsive movement  of  his  lips,  every  frown 
that  passed  over  his  brow, — he  knew 
what  dark  and  sanguinary  thoughts 
were  brooding  in  the  king's  mind,  and 
whose  the  blood  was  for  which  he 
craved. 

It  was  the  blood  of  the  Howards  for 
which  the  royal  tiger  thirsted  ;  and.  that 
they  still  lived  in  health,  and  wealth,  and 
splendor,  while  he,  their  king  and  mas- 
ter, rolled  in  pain  and  Buffering  upon 
his  weary  couch, — this  was  the  worm 
which  gnawed  at  the  king's  heart,  which 
increased  his  pains,  and  made  his  suffer- 
ings more  poignant. 

The  king  was  jealous — jealous  of  the 
power  and  greatness  of  the  Howards. 
It  filled  him  with  morbid  resentment  to 
think  that  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  when  he 
rode  through  the  streets  of  London,  was 
everywhere  greeted  by  the  shouts  and 
acclamations  of  the  people,  whilst  he, 
their  king,  was  a  prisoner  in  his  palace. 
It  was  to  him  an  unceasing  source  of 
pain  to  know  that  Henry  Howard,  the 
Earl  of  Surrey,  was  regarded  as  the 
handsomest  and  the  greatest  man  in 


INTRIGUES. 


211 


England,  that  he  was  looked  upon  as  the 
most  learned  person  and  the  most  dis- 
tinguished poet  in  the  realm,  although 
the  king  had  himself  written  poems  and 
learned  dissertations,— nay— even  had 
composed  a  devout  treatise,  which  he 
had  caused  to  be  printed  for  the  edifica- 
tion of  his  people,  and  which  he  had 
commanded  them  to  read  instead  of  the 
Bible. 

Yes,  it  was  the  Howards  who  every- 
where disputed  his  fame.  The  Howards 
supplanted  him  in  the  favor  of  his  sub- 
jects, and  usurped  the  love  and  admira- 
tion which  were  the  king's  exclusive 
right,  and  which  none  should  dare  to  be- 
stow upon  any  one  save  upon  himself. 
There  he  lay  upon  his  weary  couch,  and 
his  people  would  doubtless  have  forgot- 
ten him,  had  he  not  daily  put  them  in 
mind  of  his  existence  by  means  of  the 
rack,  the  stake,  and  the  scaffold ;  he  lay 
upon  his  weary  couch,  while  the  duke, 
dazzling  with  magnificence  and  splen- 
dor, exhibited  himself  before  the  people, 
and  excited  their  feelings  in  his  favor 
by  the  lavish  and  princely  munificence 
with  which  he  scattered  his  gold 
amongst  them. 

Undoubtedly,  the  Duke  of  Norfolk 
was  the  king's  dangerous  rival.  The 
crown  was  not  secure  upon  his  head  so 
long  as  the  Howards  lived;  and  who 
could  tell  if  the  jubilant  love  of  the  peo- 
ple might  not  one  day,  when  the  king 
had  closed  his  eyes,  summon  to  the 
throne  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  or  his  noble 
son  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  instead  of  the 
rightful  heir— the  boy  Ed  ward— Henry's 
only  son  ? 


Whenever  these  thoughts  crossed  the 
king's  mind  he  felt  as  if  his  brain  was 
on  fire,  he  clasped  his  hands  convulsive- 
ly, he  roared  and  bellowed  aloud  his 
threats  of  vengeance  —  vengeance 
against  these  detested  Howards,  who 
wished  to  snatch  the  crown  from  his 
son. 

The  youthful  Edward,  still  in  his  mi- 
nority, was  alone  the  rightful  and  di- 
vinely appointed  heir  of  the  royal  crown. 
It  had  cost  his  father  so  great  a  sacrifice 
to  give  his  people  this  son  and  successor ! 
In  order  to  do  so,  he  had  sacrificed  his 
best-beloved  wife,  Jane  Seymour;  he 
had  suffered  the  mother  to  perish,  that 
he  might  preserve  the'son  as  heir  to  his 
crown. 

And  the  people  did  not  once  thank 
the  husband  of  Jane  Seymour,  who  had 
offered  this  sacrifice  on  their  behalf. 
They  shouted  for  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
the  uncle  of  that  unchaste  queen,  whom 
Henry  had  loved  so  much  that  her  infi- 
delity had  struck  him  to  the  heart  like  a 
poisoned  dagger. 

These  were  the  thoughts  which  occu- 
pied the  king  as  he  lay  upon  his  bed  of 
suffering,  and  he  revolved  them  in  his 
mind  with  all  the  obstinacy  and  all  the 
frenzy  which  a  distempered  fancy  could 
suggest. 

"We  shall  be  obliged  to  sacrifice 
these  Howards  to  him ! "  said  Lord 
Douglas  to  Gardiner,  as  they  had  just 
overheard  one  of  the  angry  outbursts  of 
their  royal  master.  "If  we  wish  to  be 
able  eventually  to  succeed  in  over- 
throwing the  queen,  we  must  in  the  first 
place  extirpate  the  Howards." 


212 


HENRY   VHI.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


The  pious  bishop  looked  at  him  with 
inquiring  astonishment. 

Lord  Douglas  smiled. 

"  Your  lordship  is  too  highly  elevated 
and  too  noble  to  understand  the  things 
of  this  world  ;  your  gaze,  which  is  only 
fixed  upon  God  and  heavenly  things, 
does  not  always  perceive  the  minute  and 
pitiful  objects  here  below  upon  earth." 

"  Not  exactly  that,"  returned  Gardi- 
ner, with  a  grim  smile.  "  I  see  them, 
and  it  delights  my  soul  when  I  behold 
how  God's  vengeance  here  on  earth 
punishes  the  enemies  of  His  Church. 
Prepare,  therefore,  without  delay,  the 
scaffold  or  the  stake  for  these  Howards, 
if  their  death  can  serve  as  a  means  for 
attaining  our  pious  and  godly  ends. 
You  can  depend  upon  my  aid  and  bless- 
ing! Only,  I  do  not  quite  understand 
how  these  Howards  can  stand  in  the 
way  of  our  plans,  which  are  only  di- 
rected against  the  queen — as  they  belong 
to  the  side  of  the  queen's  enemies,  and 
are  adherents  of  the  holy  and  only  true 
Church." 

"  The  Earl  of  Surrey  is  an  apostate, 
who  has  opened  his  heart  and  mind  to 
the  errors  of  Calvin  !  " 

u  Then  let  his  head  fall,  for  he  is  a 
malefactor  against  God,  and  no  one  dare 
have  compassion  for  him  !  And  what  is 
the  charge  which  we  are  to  bring  against 
the  father?" 

"  The  Duke  of  Norfolk  is  even  more 
dangerous  perhaps  than  his  son,  for,  al- 
though a  Catholic,  he  has  not  the  true 
faith,  and  his  heart  is  full  of  unholy  pity 
and  pernicious  clemency.  He  commis- 
erates those  whose  blood  is  shed  for  hav- 


ing given  themselves  up  to  the  false  doc- 
trines of  the  priests  of  Baal,  and  calls 
both  of  us  the  king's  bloodhounds." 

"  Well,  then,"  cried  Gardiner,  with  a 
sinister  and  ghastly  smile,  "  we  will 
prove  to  him  that  he  has  called  us  by 
our  proper  name — for  we  will  rend  him 
asunder." 

"Besides  this,  the  Howards,  as  we 
have  said,  stand  in  the  way  of  our  pro- 
jects with  reference  to  the  queen,"  said 
Lord  Douglas,  gravely.  "The  king's 
mind  is  so  entirely  occupied  with  this 
hatred  and  this  jealousy,  that  he  has  no 
room  left  for  any  other  feeling.  It  is 
true  he  signs,  often  enough,  those  death- 
warrants  which  we  lay  before  him,  but 
he  does  it  carelessly  and  without  anger, 
as  the  lion  crushes  the  little  mouse  that 
happens  to  run  accidentally  between  his 
legs.  But  if  the  lion  is  to  enter  the  lists 
and  attack  his  equal,  his  anger  must  be 
roused  in  the  first  instance.  And  when 
his  rage  is  kindled  he  will  rend  his  oppo- 
nent to  pieces.  Well,  then,  the  Howards 
shall  be  his  first  booty.  But  we  must 
take  care  that,  when  next  he  shakes  his 
mane,  his  anger  shall  fall  upon  Katharine 
Parr  and  the  Seymours." 

"  The  Lord  oar  God  will  be  with  ns 
and  will  enlighten  us  to  find  the  proper 
means  of  securely  striking  down  His 
enemies !  "  cried  Gardiner,  raising  his 
hands  devoutly. 

"  I  believe  the  proper  means  are  al- 
ready discovered,"  said  Lord  Douglas, 
smiling,  "  and  that  already  before  this 
day  is  ended,  the  gates  of  the  Tower  will 
open  to  let  this  proud  and  tender- 
hearted Duke  of  Norfolk  and  his  heret- 


THE  ACCUSATION. 


213 


ical  son  pass  through.  Perhaps  we  may 
succeed  in  bringing  down  the  queen  and 
these  Howards  at  a  single  blow.  Look ! 
there  stands  a  carriage  before  the  great 
gate ;  I  see  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk  and 
her  daughter,  the  Duchess  of  Richmond, 
alighting.  Observe,  they  are  beckoning 
to  us.  I  have  promised  to  conduct  these 
two  noble  and  pious  ladies  to  the  king, 
and  I  will  do  so.  While  we  are  closeted, 
perhaps  your  lordship  will  offer  a 
prayer  that  our  words,  like  well-sped 
arrows,  may  strike  home  to  the  king's 
heart,  and  then  rebound  upon  the  queen 
and  the  Seymours." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE     ACCUSATION. 

IN  vain  had  the  king  hoped  to  sub- 
due his  pains,  or  at  least  to  forget  them, 
while  he  sought  for  sleep.  Rest  had 
fled  the  king's  couch;  and  as  he  now 
sat,  weary  and  racked  with  pain,  upon 
his  rolling-chair,  he  reflected  with  brood- 
ing rancor,  that  the  Dnke  of  Norfolk  had 
told  him  only  yesterday,  he  had  sleep  at 
his  own  command,  and  could  summon  it 
if  he  wished. 

This  reflection  made  him  furious  with 
anger,  and  gnashing  his  teeth  he  mut- 
tered— "  He  can  sleep,  while  I,  his  lord  and 
king,  am  nothing  but  a  poor  beggar,  who 
craves  in  vain  of  God  a  little  sleep  or  a 
little  forgetfulness  of  his  pains.  But  it 
is  this  traitorous  Norfolk  who  hinders  me 
from  sleeping.  Thinking  of  him  keeps 


me  wakeful  and  restless.  And  yet  I 
cannot  crush  this  traitor  with  my  hands. 
I  am  a  king,  and  yet  so  feeble  and 
powerless  that  I  can  find  no  means  of  ac- 
cusing this  delinquent,  or  of  convicting 
him  of  his  sinful  and  impious  deeds.  Oh, 
that  I  could  find  a  true  friend — a  devoted 
servant,  who  would  venture  to  under- 
stand my  unuttered  thoughts,  and  to 

i 
fulfil  the  wishes  to  which  I  can  give  no 

name  1 " 

As  these  thoughts  rushed  through  his 
brain  the  door  opened  behind  him,  and 
Lord  Douglas  entered.  His  face  wore 
an  expression  of  exultant  pride,  and  such 
wild  delight  shone  in  his  eyes  that  even 
the  king  himself  was  surprised  thereby. 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  peevishly,  "  you  call 
yourself  my  friend,  and  yet  you  are 
cheerful,  Douglas;  whilst  your  king  is  a 
poor  prisoner,  whom  the  gout  keeps 
eternally  bound  down  in  this  chair." 

"Your  majesty  is  growing  well,  and 
from  this  captivity  you  will  go  forth  like 
a  brilliant  and  successful  conqueror,  who 
with  the  magic  of  his  presence  tramples 
down  his  enemies  in  the  dust,  and  who 
triumphs  over  all  those  who  are  opposed 
to  him,  and  who  would  betray  their 
king!" 

"  Then  there  are  traitors  who  would 
threaten  their  king? "  asked  Henry,  with 
a  dark  frown. 

"Yes,  there  are  such  traitors,  your 
majesty !  " 

"  Name  them  to  me !  "  exclaimed  the 
king,  trembling  with  eager  impatience; 
"name  them  to  me,  that  my  arm  may 
crush  them,  and  that  my  retributive  jus- 
tice may  overtake  the  guilty !  " 


214: 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


"  It  is  superfluous  to  name  them,  for 
you,  King  Henry,  the  wise  and  all-know- 
ing, know  their  names  already." 

And  as  Lord  Douglas  bent  forward 
toward  the  king,  he  continued — uKing 
Henry,  I  have  just  cause  to  call  myself 
jour  truest  and  most  devoted  servant, 
for  I  have  read  your  thoughts.  I  have 
understood  the  sublime  grief  that  was 
gnawing  at  your  heart,  and  which  ban- 
ished sleep  from  your  eyes,  and  peace 
from  your  mind.  You  saw  the  enemy 
who  was  lurking  in  the  dark.  You  heard 
the  hissing  of  the  serpent  that  was  ready 
to  dart  its  venomous  sting  at  yon.  But 
so  much  were  you  the  noble  and  un- 
daunted king,  that  you  would  not  your- 
self become  the  accuser,  nay,  would  not 
recoil  a  step  from  the  serpent  which 
threatened  yon.  Great  and  merciful 
like  the  Almighty  Himself,  you  smiled 
upon  him  whom  you  knew  to  be  your 
enemy.  But,  for  my  part,  I  have  other 
duties  toward  your  majesty.  I  am  like 
the  faithful  watch-dog,  who  has  eyes 
only  for  the  safety  of  his  master,  and 
who  attacks  any  one  who  threatens  him. 
I  have  perceived  the  serpent  which  fain 
would  sting  you  to  death,  and  I  will  and 
shall  bruise  his  head  for  you." 

"The  name  of  the  serpent  of  which 
you  speak?"  asked  the  king,  and  his 
heart  beat  so  violently,  that  he  felt  it 
trembling  on  his  lips. 

"  Is  Howard  I  "  said  Lord  Douglas, 
gravely  and  solemnly. 

The  king  uttered  a  cry,  and,  forgetting 
his  pains  and  his  gout,  raised  himself  up 
from  his  chair. 

"Howard,"  he  said,  with  a  grim  smile, 


— "  you  say  that  a  Howard  threatens  our 
life  ?  Who  is  he?  Name  the  traitor." 

"  I  name  them  both,  father  and  son ! 
I  name  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  and  the 
Earl  of  Surrey !  I  say  that  they  are  both 
arch-traitors,  who  threaten  the  life  and 
the  honor  of  my  king,  and  who  even 
dare  with  blasphemous  arrogance  to 
stretch  forth  their  hands  to  grasp  the 
crown !  " 

"Ah,  I  knew  it— I  knew  it,"  cried  the 
king.  "  And  that  was  what  made  my 
nights  sleepless,  and  pierced  my  flesh 
like  a  red-hot  iron." 

And  as  he  turned  his  anger-flashing 
eyes  toward  Douglas,  he  asked,  with  a 
fierce  smile,  "And  can  you  prove  that 
these  Howards  are  traitors?  Can  you 
prove  that  they  are  aiming  at  my 
crown  ? " 

"  I  hope  to  be  able  to  do  so,"  replied 
Douglas.  "True,  there  are  no  decided 
and  overt  acts — " 

"  Oh,"  interrupted  the  king,  "  there 
is  no  need  for  overt  acts,  only  give  me 
the  slightest  clew — the  slenderest  thread, 
and  I'll  make  a  rope  of  it  which  shall  be 
strong  enough  to  draw  the  father  and 
son  together  up  to  the  gallows." 

"  As  for  the  son  there  is  already  proof 
enough,"  said  Douglas,  smiling ;  "  and  as 
regards  the  father,  I  shall  bring  before 
your  majesty  some  accusers  who  will 
indeed  have  weight  enough  to  send  him 
to  the  scaffold.*  Permit  me  at  once  to 
introduce  them  to  your  majesty." 

"Yes,  bring  them!  bring  them!" 
cried  the  king.  "Every  moment  is 
precious  which  can  send  the  traitors  the 
more  speedily  to  their  doom." 


THE  ACCUSATION. 


215 


Lord  Douglas  proceeded  to  the  door, 
which  he  opened.  Three  female  figures, 
closely  veiled,  entered  silently,  and  bowed 
respectfully  to  the  king. 

"Ah,"  whispered  the  king  with  a 
cruel  smile,  as  he  sank  back  once  more 
into  his  chair,  "  here  are  the  three  Fates 
who  are  spinning  the  thread  of  life  of  the 
Howards,  and  who,  I  trust,  will  now  cut 
it  short.  I  will  give  them  the  shears  for 
that  purpose,  and  if  not  sharp  enough, 
why  I  will  e'en  help  them  to  rend  the 
thread  asunder  with  my  own  royal 
hands." 

"  Sire,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  while  the 
three  women,  at  a  signal  from  him,  un- 
veiled themselves ;  "  Sire,  the  wife,  the 
daughter,  and  the  mistress  have  come  to 
accuse  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  of  high-trea- 
son ;  the  mother  and  the  daughter  are 
here  to  denounce  the  Earl  of  Surrey  for 
a  crime  equally  worthy  of  death." 

"Why,  truly,"  cried  the  king,  "it 
must  he  a  weighty  and  blasphemous 
crime  which  so  much  provokes  the  loyal 
feelings  of  these  noble  women,  as  to 
make  them  disown  the  voice  of  nature !  " 

"  Such  it  is,"  said  the  Duchess  of  Nor- 
folk, in  a  solemn  tone,  and  as  she  drew 
a  few  steps  nearer  to  the  king,  she  con- 
tinued: "Sire  I  accuse  the  duke,  my 
husband,  (from  whom  I  am  separated,) 
of  high  treason  and  disloyalty  toward 
his  king.  He  has  dared  to  assume  your 
own  royal  arms,  and  Displays  upon  his 
seal,  and  on  his  carriage,  and  over  the 
portal  of  his  mansion,  the  arms  of  the 
kings  of  England." 

"  It  is  quite  true !  "  said  the  king,  who 
now  that  he  was  sure  of  the  downfall  of 


the  Howards,  had  again  recovered  his 
composure  and  presence  of  mind,  and 
had  once  more  resumed  the  air  of  a  strict 
and  unbiassed  judge.  "  Yes,  he  bears  the 
royal  arms  on  his  standard,  but  if  "we  re- 
member aright  there  is  wanting  in  it  the 
crown  and  the  motto  of  our  ancestor 
Edward  the  Third." 

"  He  has  now  added  both  the  crown 
and  motto  to  his  armorial  bearings," 
said  Miss  Holland.  "  He  says  he  is  justi- 
fied in  doing  so,  for  he  also,  like  the 
king,  is  descended  from  Edward  the 
Third,  and  therefore  it  is  meet  for  him 
to  bare  the  royal  arms." 

"  If  he  says  so  he  is  a  traitor,  who 
presumes  to  consider  his  lord  and  king 
as  his  equal !"  cried  the  king,  whose 
countenance  lighted  up  with  ferocious 
joy,  at  the  thought  of  having  his  enemy 
at  length  in  his  power. 

"  Yes,  he  is  a  traitor,"  continued  Miss 
Holland.  "  I  have  often  heard  him  say 
he  had  the  same  right  to  the  crown  of 
England  as  Henry  the  Eighth,  and  that 
a  day  might  come  when  he  would  con- 
test this  crown  with  Henry's  son." 

"  Ah !  "  exclaimed  the  king,  and  his 
eyes  flashed  with  such  angry  looks,  that 
even  Lord  Douglas  stood  aghast.  "  Ah  ! 
he  wants  to  dispute  the  crown  of  Eng- 
land with  my  son.  Well,  that  is  good ; 
for  now  it  is  my  sacred  duty,  as  a  king 
and  as  a  father,  to  crush  the  head  of 
this  serpent  which  threatens  to  sting  me 
in  the  tenderest  part;  and  no  pity  and 
no  mercy  should  now  restrain  me  any 
longer.  And  if  there  were  no  other 
proofs  of  his  crime  and  of  his  guilt  than 
these  words  which  he  has  spoken  to  you, 


216 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


they  will  suffice,  and  will  rise  up  against 
him  as  the  headsmen  who  shall  conduct 
him  to  the  scaffold." 

"But  there  are  yet  other  proofs,"  said 
Miss  Holland,  loconically. 

The  king  perforce  unloosed  his  doub- 
let. He  felt  as  if  his  joy  would  over- 
power him. 

"  Name  them!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"He  is  bold  enough  to  deny  the  royal 
supremacy — he  calls  the  Bishop  of  Kome 
the  sole  head  and  Holy  Father  of  the 
Churcb." 

"Indeed?"  said  the  king,  laughing. 
u  Well  we  sball  see  whether  this  Holy 
Father  will  save  his  trusty  son  from  the 
scaffold  which  we  shall  erect  for  him. 
Yes,  we  must  give  the  world  a  fresh  ex- 
ample of  our  inviolable  justice,  which 
overtakes  all,  however  high  and  power- 
ful they  may  be,  and  however  near  they 
may  stand  to  our  throne.  Yet  verily,  it 
grieves  our  heart  to  fell  this  oak  which 
we  had  planted  so  near  our  throne  in 
order  that  we  might  lean  against  it  for 
support ;  but  justice  requires  the  sacrifice, 
and  we  must  therefore  offer  the  victim 
— not  with  vindictiveness  or  anger,  but 
that  we  may  fulfil  the  sacred  and  painful 
duty  of  our  kingship.  We  have  greatly 
loved  this  duke,  and  it  pains  us  to  tear 
the  love  we  bore  him  from  our  heart." 

And  the  king  with  his  jewelled  hand 
wiped  from  his  eyes  the  tears — that  did 
not  come. 

"But  how,  then?"  demanded  the 
king,  after  a  pause;  "how  will  you  have 
the  courage  to  maintain  your  accusation 
before  the  House  of  Lords  ?  Shall  you, 
his  wife,  and  you,  too,  his  mistress,  be 


willing  to  confirm  publicly,  with  a  sacred 
oath,  the  truth  of  this  charge  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  ready  to  do  so,"  said  the 
duchess,  solemnly,  "for  he  is  no  longer 
my  husband — no  longer  the  father  of 
my  children,  but  only  the  enemy  of  my 
king,  whom  to  serve  is  my  first  and 
holiest  duty. " 

"  And  I,  too,  shall  be  ready,"  said 
Miss  Holland,  with  a  fascinating  smile, 
"for  he  is  no  longer  my  lover,  but  an 
arch-traitor  and  blasphemer,  who  has 
the  hardihood  to  recognise  as  supreme 
chief  of  the  Christian  Church  the  Bishop 
of  Kome,  who  has  dared  to  hurl  his 
anathemas  against  the  head  of  our  king. 
That  is  what  has  destroyed  my  affection 
for  the  duke,  and  what  has  caused  me  to 
hate  him  now  as  intensely  as  I  once 
loved  him." 

The  king,  with  a  gracious  smile,  pre- 
sented his  hands  to  the  two  ladies.  "Yon 
have,  this  day,"  he  said,  "  done  me 
a  great  service,  for  which  I  shall  know 
how  to  reward  you.  To  you,  iny  lady 
duchess,  I  shall  give  one-half  of  his  pos- 
sessions, as  if  you  were  his  lawful  heir, 
and  entitled  to  it  as  his  widow  ;  and  to 
you,  Miss  Holland,  I  shall  leave  the  un- 
disputed possession  of  all  the  goods  and 
valuables  which  the  enamoured  duke 
bestowed  upon  you." 

The  two  ladies  broke  out  into  loud 
expressions  of  gratitude  and  exuberant 
delight  toward  the  generous  and  mag- 
nanimous king,  who  was  so  gracious  as 
to  bestow  upon  them  what  they  already 
enjoyed  as  their  own  property. 

"  Well,  my  little  duchess,  are  you 
quite  silent  ?  "  asked  the  king,  after  a 


THE  ACCUSATION. 


217 


pause,  turning  round  to  the  Duchess  of 
Richmond,  who  had  withdrawn  to  the 
embrasure  of  a  window. 

"Sire,"  said  the  duchess,  smiling. 
*'  I  was  only  waiting  for  my  cue." 

"And  pray,  what  is  the  cue? " 

"  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey ! 
Your  majesty  knows  I  am  a  lively  hut 
harmless  creature,  and  I  understand  much 
better  how  to  laugh  and  he  merry  than 
to  talk  gravely  and  seriously.  Both  of 
these  worthy  and  beautiful  ladies  have 
accused  the  duke — my  father,  and  they 
have  done  so  in  a  very  solemn  and  be- 
coming manner ;  I  am  prepared  to  accuse 
my  brother — Henry  Howard,  but  you 
must  be  indulgent  with  me,  sire,  if  my 
words  should  not  be  quite  so  grave  or  so 
solemn.  They  have  told  you  that  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk  is  a  traitor,  and  calls  the 
Pope  of  Rome  Head  of  the  Church. 
Now  the  Earl  of  Surrey  is  neither  a  trai- 
tor nor  a  papist,  and  he  entertains  no 
criminal  designs  against  the  crown  of 
England,  nor  has  he  ever  denied  the 
king's  supremacy.  No,  sire,  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  is  not  a  traitor  nor  a  papist.  " 

The  duchess  was  silent,  and  contem- 
plated the  astonished  looks  of  those 
around  her  with  a  smile  expressive  of 
drollery  and  mischief. 

The  king's  brow  became  clouded  with 
a  sinister  frown,  and  his  glance  which 
had  just  been  so  radiant,  was  now  di- 
rected with  an  angry  expression  toward 
the  young  duchess. 

"Then,  in  that  case,  my  lady,  why 
did  you  come  here !  "  he  asked.  "  To 
what  purpose  have  you  come  forward 
if  you  have  nothing  more  to  tell  me 


than  I  know  already — that  the  Earl  of 
Surrey  is  a  very  loyal  subject  and  a  man 
wholly  devoid  of  ambition,  who  neither 
courts  popular  favor,  nor  harbors  the 
thought  of  stretching  forth  a  traitorous 
hand  to  grasp  my  crown  ?  " 

The  young  duchess  shook  her  head 
with  a  smile. 

"  I  don't  know  if  he  deserves  all  "that 
praise,"  she  replied.  "I  have  indeed 
heard  that  he  has  said,  with  bitter 
mockery,  that  you,  my  liege,  wished  to 
be  thought  the  protector  of  religion, 
while  you  really  believed  in  no  creed  or 
religion  at  all ;  and  it  was  only  recently 
that  he  broke  forth  into  bitter  impreca- 
tions against  you,  because  you  had 
robbed  him  of  his  marshal's  staff  and 
bestowed  it  upon  the  Earl  of  Hertford — 
the  noble  and  generous  Seymour.  He 
also  hinted  that  he  should  like  to  see  if 
the  throne  of  England  was  so  firm  and 
unassailable  as  not  to  require  the  aid  of 
his  hand  and  arm  to  support  it.  All 
this,  indeed,  I  heard  from  him  myself, 
but  you  are  right,  sire,  it  is  unimportant, 
— not  even  worth  being  mentioned,  and 
for  that  reason  I  do  not  make  it  the  sub- 
ject of  accusation  against  him." 

"Ah,  you  are  still  the  same  little 
madcap,  Arabella!  "  cried  the  king,  who 
had  once  more  regained  his  cheerfulness. 
"You  say  you  don't  wish  to  accuse  him, 
and  yet  you  are  making  a  plaything  of 
his  head,  which  you  are  trying  to  bal- 
ance upon  those  ruby  lips  of  yours. 
But,  beware,  my  little  duchess,  beware, 
lest  while  you  laugh,  this  head  should 
be  thrust  away  from  your  lips  and  made 
to  roll  along  the  ground, — for  I  won't 


218 


HENRY  VHI.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


undertake  to  keep  in  equilibrium  the 
head  of  this  Earl  of  Surrey,  of  whom 
you  say  that  he  is  no  traitor." 

"  But  would  it  not  be  tedious  and 
monotonous  if  we  were  to  accuse  both 
father  and  son  of  the  same  crime  ? " 
asked  the  duchess,  smiling.  "Let  us 
have  a  little  variety !  Let  the  duke  be 
a  traitor ;  the  son,  my  liege,  is  a  crimi- 
nal of  a  deeper  dye." 

"  Is  there  then  any  crime  more  wicked 
or  more  execrable  than  that  of  being  a 
traitor  to  one's  lord  and  king,  and  of 
speaking  of  the  Lord's  anointed  with- 
out reverence  or  love  ?  " 

"Yes,  sire,  there  is  a  crime  still 
worse — and  of  that  I  accuse  the  Earl  of 
Surrey.  He  is  an  adulterer !  " 

"  An  adulterer  ?  "  repeated  the  king, 
with  an  expression  of  horror.  "Yes, 
by  God's  mother,  you  are  right ;  this  is 
an  odious  and  unnatural  crime,  and  we 
shall  judge  it  severely.  For  it  shall  not 
be  said  that  honor  and  virtue  find  no 
protector  in  the  king  of  this  realm,  and 
that  he  is  not  a  crushing  and  avenging 
judge  against  all  those  who  dare  to  vio- 
late the  laws  of  decency  and  morality. 
Oh,  the  Earl  of  Surrey  is  an  adulterer, 
is  he?" 

"  That  is  to  say,  sire,  he  dares  to  per- 
secute a  chaste  and  virtuous  woman 
with  his  sinful  love ;  he  dares  to  direct 
his  impious  glances  toward  a  lady  who 
is  raised  as  far  above  him  as  the  sun  is 
beyond  the  earth,  and  who,  at  least,  by 
reason  of  the  greatness  and  elevated 
position  of  her  spouse,  should  be  secure 
against  every  impure  wish  and  unchaste 
desire." 


"Ah,"  exclaimed  the  king,  uneasily, 
"  I  perceive  already  what  you  are  com- 
ing to.  It  is  always  the  same  complaint, 
and  now  I  tell  you,  as  you  said  before, 
let  us  have  a  little  variety  !  The  accu- 
sation I  have  heard  often  enough,  but 
the  proofs  were  always  wanting." 

"  Perhaps,  on  this  occasion,  sire,  we 
may  be  able  to  furnish  the  proofs,"  said 
the  duchess,  gravely.  "Would  you 
know,  my  noble  liege,  Avho  the  Geral- 
dineis,  to  whom  Henry  Howard  addresses 
his  amatory  sonnets  ?  Shall  I  tell  you  the 
real  name  of  this  lady  to  whom,  in  the 
presence  of  your  sacred  person  and  of 
your  whole  court,  he  offers  the  passion- 
ate declaration  of  his  love,  and  the  vows 
of  his  eternal  fidelity  ?  Well,  then,  this 
so  much-worshipped  and  idolized  Ger- 
aldine  is — the  queen  !  " 

"  That  is  false !  "  exclaimed  the  king, 
purple  with  rage,  and  his  hands  clutched 
with  such  a  convulsive  grasp  the  sides 
of  his  rolling  arm-chair,  that  it  creaked  ; 
"  that  is  false,  my  lady  !  " 

"It  is  true,"  said  the  duchess,  proud- 
ly and  fearlessly.  "  It  is  true,  sire,  for 
the  Earl  of  Surrey  has  confessed  the 
fact  to  me  himself,  that  it  is  the  queen 
whom  he  loves,  and  that  Geraldine  is 
only  a  well-sounding  paraphrase  of 
Katharine." 

"  What !  he  has  confessed  this  to  you 
himself? "  asked  the  king,  gasping  for 
breath.  "  He  dares  to  love  the  wife  of 
his  king  ?  Woe  betide  him,  I  yay,  woe 
betide  him !  " 

He  raised  his  clenched  hand  to  heaven, 
while  his  eyes  flashed  with  a  terrible 
expression. 


THE  ACCUSATION. 


219 


"But  how  is  this,"  he  continued,  after 
a  pause.  "  Did  he  not  lately  recite  be- 
fore us  a  poem  to  Geraldine,  in  which 
he  thanks  her  for  her  love,  and  declares 
himself  for  ever  indebted  for  the  kisses 
which  she  has  bestowed  upon  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  liege,  he  did  recite  such  a 
poem  in  your  majesty's  presence." 

The  king  groaned,  and  raised  himself 
up  from  his  seat. 

"I  must  have  proofs,"  he  murmured 
in  a  hoarse,  dismal  voice, — "proofs,  or  if 
not,  I  tell  you  your  own  head  shall  pay 
the  forfeit  for  this  accusation  !  " 

"With  these  proofs  I  shall  furnish 
your  majesty !  "  said  Lord  Douglas,  in  a 
solemn  accent.  "  You  are  pleased,  sire, 
in  the  fulness  of  your  pity  and  of  your 
gentle  disposition,  to  doubt  the  accusa- 
tion of  the  noble  duchess.  Well,  then, 
I  undertake  myself  to  supply  you  with 
infallible  proofs  that  Henry  Howard, 
Earl  of  Surrey,  really  loves  the  queen, 
and  that  he  dares  to  extol  and  worship 
the  spouse  of  his  king,  under  the  name 
of  Geraldine.  You  shall  hear  with  your 
own  ear,  sire,  how  the  Earl  of  Surrey 
makes  protestation  of  his  love  to  the 
queen;" 

The  exclamation  which  the  king  ut- 
tered at  these  words  was  so  terrible, 
and  betrayed  such  deep  anguish,  min- 
gled with  rage,  that  the  earl  became 
mute,  while  the  cheeks  of  the  ladies 
were  blanched  with  fear. 

"  Douglas,  Douglas,  beware  of  rousing 
the  lion  !  "  said  the  king,  trembling  with 
emotion.  "The  lion  in  his  fury  might 
rend  you  to  pieces !  " 

"  This  very  night,  you  shall  have  the 


proofs  which  you  demand,  sire, — this 
very  night,  you  shall  hear  how  the  Earl 
of  Surrey,  sitting  at  the  feet  of  his  Ger- 
aldine, offers  to  her  the  vows  of  his 
love." 

"It  is  well,"  said  the  king.  "This 
night  be  it  then!  But  woe,  woe  to  you, 
Douglas,  unless  you  can  redeem  your 
promise !  " 

"I shall  do  so,  sire!  Only  one  thing 
is  necessary,  and  that  is,  that  you  will 
graciously  pledge  me  your  royal  word 
that  you  will  not  betray  yourself  by 
a  breath  or  a  sigh.  The  earl  is 
suspicious,  and  the  anxiety  caused  by 
an  evil  conscience  has  sharpened  his 
ear.  He  would  recognize  you  by  a  sigh 
or  a  whisper,  and  then  his  lips  would  not 
utter  the  words  of  avowal  which  you  de- 
sire to  overhear." 

"  I  pledge  my  royal  word  that  I  will 
not  betray  my  proximity  by  a  word  or  a 
sigh !  "  said  the  king,  solemnly.  "  ISTay, 
I  swear  this  by  the  Holy  Mother  of 
God !  But  enough  of  this  now  !  Air, 
air ;  I  cannot  breathe.  My  brain  reels ! 
Open  the  windows,  and  let  in  a  little 
air.  Ah,  that  is  a  relief !  This  air  is  at 
least  pure  and  unpolluted  by  calumny  and 
sin." 

And  the  king  suffered  himself  to  be 
wheeled  toward  the  open  window, 
where  he  inhaled  in  draughts  the  pure 
fresh  air.  He  then  turned  with  an 
agreeable  smile  to  the  ladies. 

"My  ladies,"  he  said,  "I  thank 
you.  This  day  you  have  proved  your- 
selves to  be  true  and  devoted  ser- 
vants. I  shall  always  remember  this, 
and  if  ever  you  stand  in  need  of  a 


220 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


friend  and  protector,  you  may  rely  upon 
me  with  all  confidence.  "We  shall  never 
forget  the  great  service  which  you  have 
.  this  day  rendered  us." 

Whereupon  he  gave  them  a  familiar 
nod,  and,  with  a  majestic  wave  of  his 
hand,  he  dismissed  them,  and  the  audi- 
ence was  over. 

"And  now,  Douglas,"  exclaimed  the 
kimy  impetuously,  as  the  ladies  withdrew 
— "  now  there  must  he  an  end  of  this 
fearful  torment !  You  tell  me  that  I  am 
to  punish  these  traitors,  Norfolk  and 
Surrey,  and  you  impose  upon  myself  the 
most  terrible  agonies !  " 

"  Sire,  there  was  no  other  means  of 
putting  Surrey  in  your  power.  You 
wished  to  find  him  a  criminal,  and  I  shall 
prove  to  you  that  he  is  one." 

"Then  I  shall  at  length  be  able  to 
trample  his  accursed  head  under  my 
feet !  "  cried  the  king,  gnashing  his 
teeth.  "  I  shall  no  longer  have  to  tremble 
before  this  malicious  enemy,  who  goes 
about  among  my  people  with  his  hypo- 
critical tongue,  while  I  sit  in  the  dun- 
geon of  my  sick  chamber  tormented 
with  pain  and  suffering.  Yes,  I  thank 
you,  Douglas,  that  you  are  about  to 
place  him  within  reach  of  my  avenging 
arm,  and  my  soul  is  filled  with  joy  and 
delight  at  the  thought.  Ah,  why  was  it 
necessary  that  you  should  cast  a  cloud 
over  this  moment  of  rejoicing !  Why 
was  it  needful  that  the  queen  should 
become  entangled  in  these  dreary  meshes 
of  crime  and  guilt.  Her  cheerful  smile 
and  her  beaming  Jooks  have  ever  been 
to  me  a  source  of  such  pure  enjoy- 
ment." 


"  Sire,  I  do  not  by  any  means  assert 
that  the  queen  is  guilty.  Only  there 
was  no  other  means  of  proving  to  you 
the  Earl  of  Surrey's  guilt,  than  that 
you  should  yourself  hear  the  confession 
of  his  love  to  the  queen." 

"  Aye,  and  I  will  hear  it  1  "  exclaimed 
the  king,  who  had  now  already  over- 
come the  emotions  of  sentiment  in  which 
he  had  just  been  indulging.  "Yes,  I 
am  resolved  to  have  the  full  conviction 
of  Surrey's  guilt,  and  woe  to  the  queen, 
if  I  should  find  her  also  guilty !  This 
night,  therefore,  Douglas!  But  until 
then  silence  and  secrecy!  We  shall 
seize  father  and  son  at  the  same  moment 
and  have  them  arrested,  for  otherwise  the 
arrest  of  the  one  might  serve  as  a  warn- 
ing to  the  other,  who  might  thus  be 
able  to  elude  our  just  anger.  Ah,  these 
Howards  are  so  crafty,  and  their  hearts 
are  so  full  of  malice  and  deceit !  But 
now  they  shall  no  longer  evade  us — they 
are  now  in  our  power.  The  very 
thought  of  this  does  me  good  and  makes 
my  heart  bound  freely  and  lightly.  I 
feel  as  if  a  new  stream  of  life  flowed 
through  my  veins  and  imparted  fresh 
strength  to  my  blood.  Ah,  it  was  those 
Howards  who  made  me  ill ;  but  I  shall 
recover  my  powers  once  more  when  I 
know  they  are  in  the  Tower !  Yes,  my 
heart  bounds  with  joy,  and  the  present 
day  shall  be  one  of  delight  and  happi- 
ness. Call  hither  the  queen  that  I  may 
rejoice  once  more  in  the  sight  of  her 
rosy  countenance,  before  I  make  it  grow 
pale  with  terror.  Yes,  let  the  queen 
come  in  her  most  brilliant  attire ;  I  wish 
to  see  her  once  more  in  the  full  splendor 


THE  ACCUSATION. 


221 


of  her  youth  and  royal  estate,  before  her 
brow  becomes  clouded.  I  will  delight  me 
once  more  in  her  society  before  I  make 
her  weep.  Ah,  Douglas,  you  know 
there  is  no  pleasure  at  once  so  devilish 
and  so  divine  as  to  see  a  woman  who 
thus  smiles  without  suspicion  while  she 
is  already  condemned  ; — who  adorns  her 
head  with  flowers,  while  the  headsman 
is  already  whetting  his  axe;  who  still 
hopes  for  a  future  of  joy  and  happiness, 
while  the  hours  of  her  life  are  already 
numbered — while  I  have  already  com- 
manded her  to  stand  still,  and  to  descend 
into  the  grave.  Call  me  hither  the 
queen,  therefore,  and  tell  her  that  we 
are  merry,  and  would  laugh  and  jest 
with  her.  Summon  all  the  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  our  court,  and  let  the  royal 
saloons  be  thrown  open,  and  let  them 
stream  resplendently  with  light,  and  let 
us  have  music — loud,  crashing  music — 
for  on  this  day  at  least  we  will  have 
mirth  and  pleasure,  since  it  appears  we 
are  about  to  have  a  dull  and  comfortless 
night.  Yes,  good  soothe,  we  will  have 
a  merry  and  a  joyous  day,  let  what  fol- 
lows be  as  it  may.  The  halls  shall  re- 
sound with  laughter  and  glee,  and  noth- 
ing but  shouts  of  mirth  and  exultation 
shall  be  heard  in  the  grand  saloons  of 
the  king.  And  invite  for  me,  too,  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk,  my  noble  cousin,  who 
shares  with  me  my  royal  arms.  Yes, 
invite  him,  that  I  may  admire  once  more 
his  noble  countenance  and  his  lofty 
bearing,  before  this  exalted  luminary 
becomes  extinguished,  and  leaves  us  be- 
hind in  darkness  and  gloom.  Then,  too, 
invite  me  Wriothesley,  my  chancellor, 


and  let  him  bring  with  him  an  escort 
of  stout  and  trusty  soldiers  of  our  body- 
guard. They  shall  compose  the  retinue 
of  the  noble  duke  when  he  leaves  our 
festive  party  on  his  return  home  ; — aye, 
home,  if  not  to  his  palace,  at  least 
to  the  Tower  and  to  the  grave !  Go, 
Douglas,  go  and  see  that  all  these  ar- 
rangements are  properly  carried  out! 
And  send  me  straightway  my  merry 
jester,  John  Hey  wood.  He  shall  help 
me  to  pass  the  time  until  the  festivity 
begins,  and  shall  make  me  laugh  with 
his  pungent  drollery." 

"  I  shall  go  and  fulfil  your  commands, 
sire,"  said  Douglas.  "I  shall  make 
preparations  for  the  festivity,  and  im- 
part your  commands  to  the  queen  and 
to  the  court.  And  first  of  all  I  shall 
send  you  John  Heywood.  But  will 
your  majesty  pardon  me  if  I  venture  to 
remind  you,  that  you  have  pledged  your 
royal  word  that  you  will  not  betray  our 
secret  by  any  allusion,  or  even  by  any 
symptom." 

"  I  have  given  my  word  and  I  shall 
keep  it !  "  said  the  king.  "  Go,  now, 
Lord  Douglas,  and  do  as  I  have  directed 
you." 

Wholly  exhausted  by  this  paroxysm 
of  grim  exultation,  the  king  sank  back 
in  his  chair,  and  groaned  aloud  with 
agony  as  he  rubbed  his  leg,  the  tor- 
menting pain  of  which  he  had  for  a  mo- 
ment forgotten,  but  which  pain,  by  its 
terrible  fury,  now  reminded  him  of  its 
presence. 

"  Ah,  me !  "  sighed  the  king.  k'  He 
boasted  that  he  could  sleep  whenever 
he  pleased.  "Well,  this  time,  at  least,  we 


222 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


shall  have  the  pleasure  of  lulling  the 
haughty  duke  to  rest ;  but  his  sleep  will 
be  one  from  which  he  shall  never  more 
awake !  — " 

While  the  king  thus  moaned  and  suf- 
fered, Lord  Douglas  hastened  with  rapid 
and  firm  steps  through  the  long  ranges 
of  royal  chambers.  A  proud  and  tri- 
umphant smile  played  around  his  lips, 
and  a  joyful  expression  of  victory  flashed 
from  his  eyes. 

"  Triumph !  triumph  !  we  shall  con- 
quer !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  now  entered 
the  apartment  of  his  daughter,  and  pre- 
sented his  hand  to  Lady  Jane.  "  Jane, 
we  have  at  length  reached  the  goal,  and 
you  will  soon  be  the  seventh  wife  of 
King  Henry!  "' 

For  a  moment  Lady  Jane's  pale  and 
colorless  cheeks  became  tinged  with  a 
roseate  hue,  and  a  smile  played  upon 
her  lips — a  smile  which,  however, 
seemed  as  sad  and  dreary  as  if  it  had 
been  indeed  the  result  of  an  hysterical 
attack. 

44  Ah,"  she  murmured,  faintly,  "I  only 
fear  that  my  poor  head  will  be  too  weak 
to  bear  a  royal  diadem !  " 

"Courage,  courage,  Jane!  hold  up 
your  head  and  be  once  more  a  brave, 
proud  daughter." 

"  Only  I  suffer  so  nnach,  my  father," 
she  sighed.  "  I  feel  as  if  an  infernal  fire 
were  raging  within  me !  " 

"  But  scon,  Jane,  very  soon,  you  will 
experience  the  delights  of  heaven!  I 
had  forbidden  you  to  make  any  appoint- 
ments for  meeting  Henry  Howard,  lest  it 
might  get  us  into  danger.  Well,  then, 
v,  to-night  your  tender  little  heart  shall  be 


satisfied.  This  very  night  you  will  be 
able  to  greet  your  beloved !  " 

"Alas!"  she  murmured,  "he  will 
again  call  me  his  Geraldine,  and  it  will 
not  be  Jane  Douglas,  but  the  queen 
whom,  in  my  person,  he  will  embrace." 

"  Yes,  to-night  only  it  must  be  so, 
Jane,  but  I  swear  to  you  that  this  will 
be  the  last  time  that  you  shall  so  receive 
him!" 

"  The  last  time  that  I  shall  see  him  ? " 
she  inquired,  with  a  look  of  terror. 

"No,  Jane,  only  the  last  time  that 
Henry  Howard  shall,  in  your  person,  love 
the  queen  instead  of  yourself." 

"  Oh,  he  will  never  love  me  I "  she 
murmured  sadly. 

"Yes,  he  will  love  you,  Jane,  for  it 
will  be  you  who  shall  save  his  life. 
Hasten,  therefore,  Jane,  hasten,  and 
write  speedily  to  him  one  of  those  tender 
notes  which  you  can  compose  with  so 
much  skill ;  invite  him  to  a  rendezvous 
for  this  night,  at  the  accustomed  time 
and  hour." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  at  length  have  him  beside 
me  once  more !  "  whispered  Lady  Jane, 
and  she  went  to  her  escritoire,  and  be- 
gan to  write  with  trembling  hand. 

Suddenly,  however,  she  ceased,  and 
looked  at  her  father  with  an  air  of  scru- 
tiny and  suspicion. 

"  You  swear  to  me,  my  father,  that 
no  danger  threatens  him  if  he  should 
come  ? " 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Jane,  that  it  will  be 
you  who  shall  save  his  life  ?  I  swear  to 
you,  too,  Jane,  that  you  shall  take  re- 
venge on  the  queen, — revenge  for  all  the 
agony,  the  humiliation  and  despair  which 


THE  BANQUET   OF  DEATH. 


223 


you  have  suffered  on  her  account  I  To- 
day she  is  still  Queen  of  England.  To- 
morrow she  will  be  nothing  more  than  a 
guilty  creature,  awaiting  with  sighs  the 
hour  of  her  execution,  iii  the  dungeons 
of  the  tower;  while  you  will  be  Henry's 
seventh  wife.  Write,  therefore,  daugh- 
ter, write,  and  may  love  inspire  you 
with  the  most  effectual  words !  " 


CHAPTER    Y. 

THE   BANQUET   OF   DEATH. 

FOR  a  long  time  the  king  had  not  been 
so  cheerful  as  on  this  festive  evening ; 
for  a  long  time  he  had  not  shown  him- 
self so  mucli  the  devoted  and  affectionate 
husband,  the  gay  companion,  the  spright- 
ly man  of  the  world. 

The  pains  in  his  leg  seemed  to  have 
vanished,  and  e?en  the  weight  of  his 
body  seemed  on  the  present  occasion  to 
be  less  burdensome  than  usual ;  for  more 
than  once,  he  raised  himself  from  his 
rolling-chair  and  walked  a  few  steps  up 
and  down  the  brilliantly  lighted  saloon, 
in  which  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  his 
court  moved  backward  and  forward  in 
festive  attire— in  which  music  and  mer- 
ry laughter  resounded. 

"What  tenderness  he  displayed  on  this 
evening  toward  his  spouse,  with  what 
extraordinary  favor  did  he  greet  the 
Duke  of  Norfolk — with  what  smiling  at- 
tention did  he  listen  to  the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey, as  the  latter  at  the  king's  desire 


repeated  some  new  sonnets  to  Geral- 
dine! 

This  marked  preference  for  the  noble 
Howards  delighted  the  Catholic  party  of 
the  court,  and  filled  them  with  new 
hopes  and  new  confidence. 

But  there  was  present  one  person  who 
did  not  suffer  himself  to  be  deceived  by 
this  mask  with  which  Henry  had  for 
the  nounce  covered  his  angry  counte- 
nance. 

John  Hey  wood  believed  neither  in  the 
cheerfulness  nor  in  the  conjugal  affection 
of  the  king.  He  understood  his  royal 
master ;  and  he  knew  that  those  toward 
whom  the  king  displayed  the  most  cor- 
dial regard,  had  often  the  most  to  fear 
from  him.  He,  therefore,  observed  him 
closely,  and  so  perceived  that  under  the 
guise  of  this  friendly  exterior,  the  king's 
real  and  angry  countenance  would  some- 
times become  inflamed  by  a  hasty  and 
sudden  glance.  The  pealing  music  and 
boisterous  gaiety  no  longer  deceived 
John  Heywood.  He  saw  death  stand- 
ing behind  this  brilliant  and  living 
throng;  he  scented  the  odors  of  cor- 
ruption concealed  amidst  the  fragrance 
of  these  dazzling  flowers. 

John  Heywood  ceased  to  laugh  and 
ceased  to  chatter.  He  observed  and 
kept  watch. 

For  the  first  time  for  a  long  while, 
the  king  did  not  on  the  present  occa- 
sion, require  the  inciting  pleasantries 
and  the  pungent  drolleries  of  his  jester, 
to  make  him  cheerful  and  to  keep  him 
in  good  humor. 

The  fool  accordingly  had  ample  leisure 
to  play  the  part  of  a  rational  and  ob- 


224 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


servant  being,  and  he  took  advantage  of 
his  time. 

He  saw  the  looks  of  mutual  under- 
standing and  triumphant  security,  which 
were  exchanged  between  Lord  Douglas 
and  Gardiner,  and  he  felt  distrustful  at 
perceiving  that  those,  otherwise  so 
jealous,  favorites  of  the  king,  did  not 
appear  in  anyway  disconcerted  at  the 
marked  favor  evinced  toward  the  How- 
ards. 

Once,  he  heard  how  Gardiner,  in 
passing  near  "Wriothesley,  asked :  "  And 
the  soldiers  from  the  Tower? "  and  how 
the  latter  answered,  in  words  equally 
laconic — "They  are  standing  near  the 
carriage,  waiting." 

It  was  accordingly  quite  evident  that 
some  one  was  about  to  be  arrested  this 
very  night.  There  was,  therefore, 
amongst  this  crowd  of  laughing,  jesting, 
and  richly-arrayed  courtiers,  one,  at 
least,  who,  when  he  left  these  brilliant 
saloons,  radiant  with  splendor  and  filled 
with  exuberant  mirth,  would  have  to 
contemplate  the  dreary  and  dismal  dun- 
geons of  the  Tower. 

The  only  question  was,  who  could  the 
individual  be  for  whom  the  brilliant 
comedy  of  this  evening  was  to  be 
changed  into  such  a  melancholy 
drama  ? 

John  Heywood  felt  oppressed  with 
inexplicable  anxiety,  and  this  marked 
tenderness  of  the  king  toward  his 
spouse  filled  him  with  apprehension  and 
terror. 

As  the  king  now  smiled  upon  Katha- 
rine,— as  he  caressed  her  cheek, — so  had 
he  smiled  upon  Anne  Bullen  within  the 


same  hour  that  he  signed  the  warrant 
for  her  imprisonment ;  thus,  too,  had  he 
stroked  the  cheek  of  Buckingham  on  the 
very  day  that  he  confirmed  the  sentence 
of  death  against  him. 

The  court  jester  stood  aghast  in  pres- 
ence of  this  splendid  entertainment,  this 
crashing  music,  and  this  extravagant 
gaiety  of  the  king.  He  recoiled  from  t.he 
mirthful  faces  and  from  the  thoughtless 
witticisms  which  fell  from  the  lips  of 
the  assembled  guests. 

Good  Heavens!  they  laughed,  and 
death  was  in  the  midst  of  them;  they 
laughed,  and  already  the  gates  of  the 
Tower  stood  open,  to  admit  one  of  these 
blithesome  guests  of  the  king  into  a 
domicile,  from  which  in  those  days  of 
Henry  the  Eighth,  no  one  ever  came 
forth,  unless  to  go  to  the  stake  or  to 
mount  the  scaffold. 

Who  was  now  the  unhappy  offender  ? 
For  whom  were  the  soldiers  from  the 
Tower  now  waiting  below  beside  the 
carriage?  In  vain  did  John  Heywood 
rack  his  brain  to  answer  this  ques- 
tion. 

Nowhere  was  there  a  trace  visible 
which  could  set  him  on  the  right  track ; 
nowhere  a  clue  to  lead  him  out  of  this 
labyrinth  of  terror. 

""When  one  fears  the  devil,  it  is  best 
to  take  refuge  at  the  nearest  shelter," 
muttered  John  Heywood,  and  he  glided 
with  a  sad  and  trembling  heart  behind 
the  state  chair  in  which  the  king  was 
seated,  and  crouched  down  beside  him 
on  the  floor. 

John  Heywood  was  of  such  a  slight 
and  diminutive  frame,  and  the  state 


THE  BANQUET  OF  DEATH. 


chair  of  the  king  was  so  large  and  broad 
that  it  entirely  concealed  the  little 
squatting  figure  of  the  jester. 

No  one  had  observed  that  John  Hey- 
wood  lay  concealed  behind  the  king ;  no 
one  perceived  his  large  piercing  eyes, 
which  scanned  and  overlooked  the  entire 
saloon  from  behind  the  throne. 

John  Hey  wood  could  hear  and  see  all 
that  transpired  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
king;  he  could  observe  everyone  who 
approached  the  queen. 

He  also  perceived  Lady  Jane,  who 
stood  beside  the  chair  where  the  queen 
was  seated.  He  saw  how  Lord  Douglas 
approached  his  daughter,  and  how  s]ie 
became  deadly  pale  as  he  drew  near 
her. 

John  Hey  wood  held  his  breath  while 
he  watched  and  listened. 

Lord  Douglas  stood  beside  his  daugh- 
ter and  nodded  to  her  with  a  smile  of 
peculiar  significance.  "  Go,  now,  Jane," 
he  said,  "  and  change  your  attire.  It  is 
time.  Just  observe  how  impatiently  and 
anxiously  Henry  Howard  already  looks 
this  way,  and  with  what  languishing 
and  amorous  glances  he  appears  to  re- 
gard the  queen.  Go,  therefore,  Jane, 
and  remember  your  promise." 

"  And  will  you  too,  my  dear  father, 
remember  your  promise  ?  "  asked  Lady 
Jane,  with  trembling  lips.  "Will  no 
danger  threaten  him  ?  " 

"  I  shall  do  so,  Jane  1  But  now  has- 
ten, good  daughter,  and  show  yourself 
discreet  and  skilful." 

Lady  Jane  bowed,  and  muttered  a  few 
unintelligible  words.  She  then  ap- 
proached the  queen,  and  begged  permis- 
15 


sion  to  leave  the 

sudden  and  violent  headache. 

Lady  Jane's  countenance  was  so 
deadly  pale,  that  the  queen  could  readily 
believe  in  the  indisposition  of  her  first 
maid  of  honor,  and  permitted  her  to  re- 
tire. 

Lady  Jane  left  the  saloon,  and  the 
queen  resumed  her  conversation  with 
Lord  Hertford,  who  stood  near  her. 

It  was  a  very  lively  and  earnest  collo- 
quy, and  the  queen  accordingly  gave  but 
little  heed  to  what  was  passing  around 
her,  and  heard  nothing  of  the  conver- 
sation between  the  king  and  £ord  Doug- 
las. 

John  Heywood  who  was  still  crouch- 
ing behind  the  king's  state  chair,  ob- 
served all,  and  heard  every  word  of 
this  lightly  whispered  dialogue. 

"Sire,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  "it  ia 
late,  and  the  midnight  hour  is  fast  ap- 
proaching. Will  it  please  your  majesty 
to  close  the  festivity  ?  For  you  know 
we  must  be  in  the  green  garden-cham- 
ber, yonder,  by  midnight,  and  it  is  some 
distance  thither." 

"Yes,  yes,  by  midnight,"  murmured 
the  king; — "by  midnight  the  carnival 
is  over,  and  then  we  shall  tear  off  the 
masks,  and  show  our  angry  counte- 
nance to  the  guilty!  By  midnight  we 
must  be  yonder  in  the  green  chamber. 
Yes,  Douglas,  we  must  make  haste,  for 
it  would  be  cruel  to  let  the  affectionate 
Surrey  wait  any  longer.  We  will  also 
give  his  Geraldine  leave  to  quit  the 
festivity,  and  we  must  ourselves  set  out 
on  our  way.  Ah!  Douglas,  the  road 
we  have  to  travel  is  a  hard  one,  but 


226 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


Nemesis  and  the  Eumonides  shall  be 
our  torch-bearers — Vengeance  and  the 
Furies  our  lit  companions.  To  work, 
then — to  work!  " 

The  king  rose  from  his  chair  and 
approached  the  queen,  to  whom  he 
gave  his  hand,  with  an  affectionate 
smile. 

"  It  is  late,  my  sweet  lady,"  he  said, 
"and  we,  although  the  king  of  so  many 
subjects,  are  still  ourself  the  subject  of 
another  king,  that  is  to  say,  of  our  phy- 
sician, and  we  must  obey  him.  He  has 
commanded  me  to  seek  my  couch  before 
midnight,  and  I  obey  as  a  loyal  subject 
should  do.  We  therefore  wish  you  a 
good-night,  Kate,  and  may  those  bright 
eyes  of  yours  be  as  star-like  to-morrow 
as  they  are  this  evening." 

"They  will  be  equally  bright  to  mor- 
row, if  my  lord  and  spouse  should  be 
still  as  gracious  to  me  as  he  has  been 
to-day,"  said  Katharine,  without  suspi- 
cion or  constraint,  as  she  presented 
her  hand  to  the  king. 

Henry  bestowed  upon  her  a  penetrat- 
ing and  distrustful  look,  and  a  peculiar 
and  malicious  expression  played  over 
his  features. 

"  Do  you  believe  then,  Kate,  that  we 
could  ever  be  ungracious  toward  you  ?  " 
be  asked. 

"  I  think,"  she  replied,  smiling,  "  that 
even  the  sun  does  not  always  shine  •  and 
that  a  dark  night  often  follows  the 
brightest  day." 

The  king  made  no  reply.  He  looked 
for  a  moment  into  her  face  with  a 
fixed  gaze,  and  then  his  features  sud- 
denly assumed  a  milder  expression. 


Perchance  he  felt  compassion  for  his 
young  wife  ;  perhaps  he  felt  pity  for  her 
youth,  and  thought  of  that  bewitching 
smile,  which  had  so  often  gladdened  and 
refreshed  his  heart. 

Lord  Douglas  at  least  certainly  feared 
so. 

,     "  Sire,"  he  said,  "  it  is  late ;  it  is  near 
midnight  already." 

"  Then  let  us  go,"  said  the  king,  with 
a  sigh.  "  Once  more,  then,  Kate,  good- 
night !  "No,  do  not  follow  me ;  I  wish 
to  leave  the  saloon  quite  unobserved ; 
and  I  shall  be  pleased  if  my  guests  will 
prolong  this  festivity  until  morning.  All 
remain  here;  no  one  accompanies  me 
but  Douglas." 

"And  your  brother,  the  fool,"  said 
John  Heywood,  who  for  some  time  had 
come  out  from  his  hiding-place,  and 
now  stood  beside  the  king.  "Yes, 
brother  Henry,  let  us  leave  this  ban- 
quet. It  becomes  not  sages  like  us  to 
favor  the  assembly  of  fools  any  longer 
with  our  presence.  Come  along  to 
your  couch,  king,  and  I'll  lull  you  to 
sleep  with  my  wise  proverbs,  and  re- 
fresh your  soul  with  the  manna  of  my 
learning." 

While  John  Heywood  was  thus 
speaking,  it  did  not  escape  him  that 
the  earl's  brow  became  suddenly  clouded, 
and  that  his  features  assumed  a  sinister 
expression. 

"  Keep  your  wisdom  to  yourself  for 
the  present,  John,"  said  the  king,  "  for 
you  would  only  be  preaching  to  deaf 
ears.  I  am  tired,  and  I  have  no  wish 
for  your  learning,  but  for  sleep.  Good- 
night, John  ! " 


THE  BANQUET   OF  DEATH. 


227 


The  king  left  the  saloon,  leaning  on 
the  arm  of  Lord  I>juglas. 

"  So  I  see  ray  Lord  Douglas  does  not 
want  me  to  accompany  the  king,"  mut- 
tered John  Heywood,  to  himself.  "  He 
is  afraid  the  king  will  tell  me  something 
about  this  devilish  hob-goblin  scene 
which  is  to  take  place  about  midnight. 
Well,  then,  I  call  the  devil  my  brother, 
just  as  much  as  the  king,  and  with  the 
help  of  his  infernal  majesty,  I,  too,  shall 
be  in  the  green-room  at  midnight.  The 
queen  is  already  leaving,  and  there  goes 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk.  I  am  rather  curi- 
ous to  see  if  the  duke  escapes  safely,  or 
whether  the  soldiers  who,  according  to 
"Wriothesley,  are  standing  near  his  car- 
riage, will  perchance  be  the  duke's  body- 
guards to-night." 

Gliding  stealthily  from  the  saloon. 
John  Heywood  reached  the  anteroom 
before  the  duke,  and  hastened  forward 
to  the  outer  gate  in  front  of  which  the 
carriages  were  drawn  up  in  rank. 

John  Hey  wood  leaned  against  one  of 
the  pillars,  and  watched.  A  few  min- 
utes and  the  tall,  stately  figure  of  the 
duke  appeared  in  the  outer  hall,  while 
his  carriage  was  ordered  by  one  of  the 
servants  in  attendance. 

The  carriage  advanced — the  door  was 
opened. 

Two  men  wrapped  in  dark  cloaks  sat  be- 
side the  driver;  two  others  stood  behind, 
while  a  fifth  waited  at  the  open  carriage 
door. 

The  duke  did  not  notice  it  until  his 
foot  had  already  touched  the  step. 

"  That  is  not  my  carriage !  These  are 
not  my  servants !  "  he  exclaimed,  draw- 


ing back.  But  the  pretended  servant 
pushed  him  forward  impetuously  into 
the  carriage,  and  closed  the  door. 

u  Forward !  "  he  shouted,  and  the 
vehicle  rolled  away. 

For  a  moment  John  Heywood  per- 
ceived the  pale  features  of  the  duke 
through  the  open  window  of  the  car- 
riage, and  it  seemed  as  if  he  stretched 
out  his  arms  entreatingly  for  help,  and 
then  the  carriage  vanished  in  the  dark- 
ness. 

"  Unhappy  duke !  "  murmured  John 
Heywood.  u  The  gates  of  the  Tower  are 
heavy,  and  your  arms  will  never  be 
strong  enough  to  open  them,  when  they 
have  once  closed  behind  you.  But  it  is 
useless  to  think  of  him  at  the  present 
moment.  The  queen,  too,  is  in  danger. 
Away  then  to  the  queen !  " 

With  lightning  steps,  John  Heywood 
hastened  back  into  the  palace.  Swiftly  he 
glided  along  through  corridors  and  pas- 


He  had  now  reached  the  corridor  that 
led  to  the  queen's  apartments. 

"I  shall  mount  guard  for  her  to- 
night," muttered  John  Heywood,  as  he 
concealed  himself  in  a  niche  in  the  cor- 
ridor. "  The  fool,  with  his  prayers,  will 
banish  every  devilish  apparition  from  the 
door  of  his  saints,  and  will  protect  them 
from  the  snares  in  which  the  pious 
Bishop  Gardiner  and  the  sly  courtier, 
Douglas,  wish  to  entrap  them.  No,  my 
queen  shall  not  fall  a  victim  to  their 
wiles.  May  the  fool  still  live  to  protect 
her!" 


228 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   QUEEN. 

FKOM  the  niche  in  which  John  Hey- 
wood  had  concealed  himself,  he  had  a 
full  view  of  the  entire  corridor  and  of 
all  the  doors  which  opened  upon  it :  he 
could  hear  all  and  see  all,  without  being 
seen  himself,  for  the  projecting  pillars 
of  the  wall  securely  sheltered  him  from 
observation. 

Accordingly,  John  Heywood  stood 
and  listened.  In  the  corridor  all  was 
still.  In  the  distance  could  now  and  then 
be  heard  subdued  sounds  of  music,  while 
a  confused  murmur  of  many  voices 
borne  along  from  the  banquet-chamber, 
fell  upon  the  ear  of  the  listener. 

This  was  all  that  John  Heywood  conld 
hear:  beyond  this  there  was  perfect 
stillness. 

But  this  stillness  was  of  brief  dura- 
tion. The  corridor  was  suddenly  lighted 
up,  and  rapid  footfalls  were  heard  ap- 
proaching. 

It  was  the  gold-laced  footmen,  bear- 
ing large  silver  candlesticks  to  light  the 
way  for  the  queen,  who  was  advancing 
along  the  corridor  accompanied  by  her 
ladies. 

She  looked  extremely  beautiful.  The 
brilliancy  of  the  wax-lights  borne  be- 
fore her  illumined  her  countenance, 
which  beamed  serenely.  As  she  passed 
along  near  the  pillars,  behind  which 
John  Heywood  stood,  she  spoke  with 
unconstrained  mirth  and  animation  to 
both  her  maids  of  honor,  and  when  a 
cheerful  peal  of  laughter  burst  from  her 
lips,  she  displayed  to  view  a  set  of  teeth 


of  dazzling  whiter  oss.  Tier  eyes  glowed, 
her  cheeks  were  suffused  with  an  exqui- 
site roseate  hue;  the  brilliants  in  the 
diadem  which  decked  her  lofty  brow 
glistened  like  stars ;  and  like  liquid  gold 
shone  her  rich  brocaded  robe,  the  train 
of  which,  bordered  with  dark  ermine, 
was  held  by  two  youthful  pages. 

Having  reached  the  door  of  her  cham- 
ber, the  queen  dismissed  her  pages  and 
her  other  male  attendants:  her  ladies 
of  honor  alone  were  permitted  to  enter 
the  sleeping  apartment. 

The  pages  conversed  together  with 
thoughtless  gaiety,  retired  along  the  pas- 
sage and  down  the  steps.  Then  came 
the  footmen  who  had  carried  the  wax- 
lights.  They  too,  forsook  the  corridor. 
.And  now  once  more  all  was  still. 
John  Heywood  continued  to  listen, 
firmly  resolved  to  speak  to  the  queen 
this  very  night,  even  though  he  should 
have  to  rouse  her  from  sleep.  He  was 
only  waiting  a  little  longer  until  the 
ladies  of  honor  should  also  have  left  the 
apartment. 

At  length  the  door  opened  and  the 
maids  of  honor  came  out.  They  pro- 
ceeded along  the  corridor  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  their  own  chambers  were 
situated.  John  Heywood  heard  them 
open  their  doors,  and  fasten  the  bolts 
when  they  had  entered. 

"  Now  then,  only  a  short  time,  and  I 
shall  go  to  the  queen,"  murmured  John 
Heywood. 

He  was  just  upon  the  point  of  quitting 
his  hiding  place,  when  he  heard  a  slight 
creaking  sound,  as  if  a  door  was  being 
opened  slowly  and  cautiously. 


THE  QUEEN. 


229 


John  Hey  wood  crouched  closely  be- 
hind the  pillars,  and  held  his  breath  in 
order  to  listen. 

A  bright  gleam  of  light  fell  athwart 
the  corridor.  The  rustling  of  a  garment 
was  heard  approaching.  Astonished 
and  amazed,  John  Heywood  closely 
scanned  a  female  form  which  hnrried 
along  close  to  the  spot  where  he  lay, 
but  without  perceiving  him. 

The  figure  was  that  of  Lady  Jane 
Douglas. 

Lady  Jane,  had  left  the  banquet- 
room  from  indisposition,  in  order  to  re- 
tire to  rest  And  now,  when  all  were 
sleeping  she  was  awake — when  all  the 
others  had  put  off  their  festive  attire, 
she  had  resumed  hers.  Like  the  queen, 
she  wore  a  robe  of  gold  brocade,  bor- 
dered with  ermine,  and  like  her  too,  a 
diadem  of  brilliants  adorned  Lady  Jane's 
brow. 

She  now  stood  before  the  queen's 
door  and  listened.  Then  a  derisive  and 
scornful  smile  seemed  for  a  moment  to 
flit  over  her  features,  which  were  dead- 
ly pale,  and  her  dark  eyes  flashed  with 
&  fierce  lustre, 

"  She  sleeps,"  murmured  Lady  Jane. 
41  Sleep  on,  queen,  sleep  on,  till  we  come 
to  rouse  you  up.  To  rouse  you  up! 
Sleep,  in  order  that  I  may  be  able  to 
watch  in  your  stead  !  " 

She  raised  her  arm  with  a  threaten- 
ing gesture  toward  the  door  and  shook 
her  head  wildly.  Her  long  raven  looks, 
like  the  snakes  of  Erinnys,  swept  around 
her  dark  brow  ;  and  pale,  and  colorless, 
and  beautiful  as  a  demon,  as  she  was, 
she  resembled  nothing  so  much  as  the 


goddess  of  revenge,  preparing  with 
scornful  triumph  to  trample  her  victim 
in  the  dust. 

With  a  faint  laugh  she  now  glided 
along  the  corridor,  but  not  to  yonder 
flight  of  steps, — but  farther  on  toward 
the  end,  where  the  large  portrait  of 
Henry  the  Sixth  hung  on  the  wall.  She 
pressed  a  spring,  the  picture  opened,  and 
through  a  door  concealed  behind  it,  Lady 
Jane  disappeared. 

"  She  is  going  into  the  green  saloon  to 
keep  her  rendezvous  with  Henry  How- 
ard! "  whispered  John  Heywood,  who 
now  stepped  forth  from  behind  the  pil- 
lars. "  Ah,  now  I  understand  it  ail- 
now  the  whole  of  this  devilish  scheme  is 
quite  clear.  Lady  Jane  is  the  inamorata 
of  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  and  they  will  try 
to  make  the  king  believe  that  it  is  the 
queen.  Doubtless  this  Surrey  himself  is 
in  the  plot,  and  perhaps  he  will  even  call 
Jane  Douglas  by  the  queen's  name.  The 
king  will  only  be  suffered  to  see  her  for 
a  moment.  She  wears  a  robe  of  gold 
brocade,  and  a  diadem  like  the  queen, 
and  by  this  means  they  hope  to  impose 
upon  the  king.  Her  figure  is  exactly 
like  the  queen's,  and  every  one  knows 
the  wonderful  resemblance  of  Lady 
Jane's  voice  to  that  of  the  queen.  Ho, 
ho, — the  trick  is  not  bad  !  But  with  all 
their  cunning,  the  victory  won't  be 
theirs.  Patience,  only  a  little  patience! 
We,  too,  shall  be  in  the  green  saloon, 
and  we  shall  bring  the  real  queen  face 
to  face  with  her  would-be  representa- 
tive!" 

With  hasty  steps  John  Heywood  also 
quitted  the  corridor,  which  was  now  sol- 


230 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


itary  and  still,  for  the  qneen  had  retired 
to  rest. 

Yes,  the  queen  slept,  and  yet  every 
thing  had  been  prepared  for  her  recep- 
tion yonder  in  the  green  chamber. 

It  was  to  be  a  very  splendid  and  ex- 
traordinary reception,  for  the  king  in 
person  had  repaired  to  that  wing  of  the 
palace,  and  the  chief  master  of  the  cere- 
monies, Lord  Douglas,  had  accompanied 
him. 

1  This  journey,  which  the  king  was 
obliged  to  perform  on  foot,  had  been 
very  fatiguing  to  him,  but  this  fatigue 
only  made  him  all  the  more  furious  and 
enraged,  and  the  least  trace  of  mercy 
for  his  queen  had  now  vanished  from  the 
king's  breast ;  for  it  was  on  Katharine's 
account  that  he  had  been  compelled  to 
go  this  long  distance  to  the  green  saloon, 
and  with  a  grim  delight  Henry  only 
thought  how  terrible  would  be  the 
punishment  of  Henry  Howard  and  also 
of  Katharine. 

Now  that  Lord  Douglas  had  conducted 
him  hither,  the  king  no  longer  doubted 
of  the  queen's  guilt.  It  was  no  longer  an 
accusation ;  it  was  a  proof.  For  never 
would  Lord  Douglas  have  dared  to  bring 
him,  his  king,  to  this  place,  unless  he 
were  certain  that  he  could  here  furnish 
him  with  infallible  proofs. 

The  king,  therefore,  doubted  no  long- 
er. Henry  Howard  was  at  length  in 
his  power,  and  could  no  longer  escape 
him.  He  was  accordingly  certain  of 
being  at  length  able  to  bring  both  his 
hated  enemies  to  the  scaffold,  so  that  he 
should  no  longer  feel  his  sleep  disturbed 
by  thinking  of  his  two  powerful  rivals. 


The  Duke  of  Norfolk  had  already 
passed  the  gates  of  the  Tower,  and  his 
son  would  shortly  follow  him. 

This  thought  afforded  the  king  such 
ferocious  delight,  that  he  forgot  for  the 
moment  that  this  very  sword  which  was 
to  fall  upon  the  head  of  Henry  Howard, 
was  also  hanging  over  the  queen. 

They  had  already  reached  the  green 
saloon,  and  the  king,  panting  and  groan- 
ing leaned  upon  the  arm  of  Lord  Douglas, 

This  immense  saloon  with  its  antique 
furniture  and  its  faded  splendor,  was 
only  dimly  and  scantily  lighted  up  in  the 
centre  by  the  two  wax  tapers  of  the 
branch  candlestick  which  Lord  Douglas 
had  brought  with  him, — while  in  the 
distance  it  seemed  shrouded  in  darkness, 
and,  through  this  darkness,  appeared  to 
the  eye  to  extend  itself  to  an  unlimited 
distance. 

"  Yonder,  through  that  door  will  come 
the  queen,"  said  Douglas,  and  he  started 
at  the  loud  tone  of  his  own  voice, 
which  acquired  an  awful  resonance  in 
this  large  dreary  hall.  "And  this,  close 
by,  is  the  entrance  of  Henry  Howard. 
Oh  !  he  knows  the  way  quite  well,  for  he 
has  trodden  it  often  enough  in  the  dark 
already,  and  his  foot  stumbles  at  no  ob- 
stacle." 

"  Perhaps,  however,  it  will  stumble  on 
the  scaffold  I  "  muttered  Henry,  with  a 
grim  laugh. 

"  I  will  now  allow  myself  to  ask  only 
one  question,"  said  Douglas,  and  the 
king  little  suspected  how  violently  this 
question  caused  the  earl's  heart  to  trem- 
ble. "Will  it  suffice  your  majesty  to 
see  the  earl  and  the  queen  both  appear  at 


THE   QUEEN. 


231 


tlie  appointed  rendezvous  ?  Or  do  you 
also  wish  to  hear  a  little  of  the  earl's 
endearing  protestations  ?  " 
•  "  Not  a  little,  but  all !  I  will  hear  all," 
said  the  king.  "  Nay,  we  must  let  this 
noble  swan  sing  his  farewell  song  before 
he  plunges  down  into  the  sea  of  blood !  " 

"  Then,  in  that  case."  said  Douglas, 
"we  must  extinguish  these  lights,  and 
your  majesty  must  be  content  with 
hearing  the  guilty  pair,  without  seeing 
them!  We  will,  therefore,  at  once, 
retire  to  the  boudoir,  which  I  have  got 
ready  for  this  purpose,  and  in  which  an 
arm-chair  is  prepared  for  your  majesty. 
We  will  then  place  this  chair  near  the 
open  door,  which  will  enable  your  maj- 
esty  to  hear  every  word  of  their  tender 
dalliance." 

"  But  how  shall  we  eventually  be  able 
to  gain  a  sight  of  this  affectionate  couple, 
and  procure  for  them  the  dramatic 
surprise  of  our  presence,  if  we  extinguish 
the  only  lights  which  we  have  got  ?  " 

"  Sire,  as  soon  as  the  Earl  of  Surrey, 
has  entered,  twenty  men  of  the  royal 
body  guard  will  take  possession  of  the 
ante-room  through  which  the  earl  must 
pass,  and  it  will  only  require  a  summons 
from  you  to  make  them  enter  the  saloon 
with  their  torches.  I  have  also  taken 
care  that  at  the  private  door  behind  the 
palace,  two  coaches  shall  be  in  readi- 
ness,— the  drivers  of  which  are  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  streets  which  lead  to 
the  Tower." 

**  Two  coaches !  "  said  the  king,  laugh- 
ing. "  Ah,  Douglas,  how  very  cruel  we 
are !  To  think  of  separating  such  a  lov- 
ing pair  upon  this  journey,  which  indeed 


will  be  their  last!  Now,  perhaps,  we 
may  be  able  to  compensate  them  for 
this,  by  allowing  these  turtle-doves  to 
travel  together  on  their  last  road — the 
road  that  leads  to  the  scaffold.  No,  no, 
we  won't  separate  them  in  death.  They 
shall  both  lay  their  heads  on  "the  block 
together  I " 

The  king  laughed,  quite  gratified  with 
his  own  pleasantry,  while  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  the  earl,  he  proceeded  to  the  lit- 
tle boudoir  beyond,  and  seated  himself 
in  the  arm-chair  which  was  placed  in- 
side the  door. 

"  We  must  now  put  out  the  light,  and 
may  it  please  your  majesty  to  await  in 
silence  the  events  which  shall  speedily 
come  to  pass." 

The  earl  extinguished  the  light,  and  a 
profound  darkness  and  a  death-like  still- 
ness succeeded. 

But  this  did  not  continue  long.  The 
sound  of  footsteps  was  heard  quite  dis- 
tinctly; they  came  nearer  and  nearer, — 
and  now  a  door  was  heard  to  open  and 
again  to  shut,  and  it  seemed  as  if  some 
one  were  gliding  gently  into  the  saloon 
on  tip-toe. 

"  Henry  Howard  I  "  whispered  Doug- 
las. 

The  king  could  scarcely  restrain  the 
cry  of  wild  malicious  joy  which  now  rose 
to  his  lips. 

The  hated  enemy  was  at  present  in  his 
power;  he  was  convicted  of  his  crime; 
tie  was  irrecoverably  lost. 

"  Geraldine !  "  whispered  a  voice. 
"Geraldine!  " 

And  as  if  a  faint  signal  had  already 
sufficed  to  attract  the  inamorata,  a  secret 


232 


HENRY   VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


door  was  here  opened  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  the  boudoir  ;  the  rustling  of 
robes  too  was  distinctly  heard,  and  the 
sound  of  footsteps. 

"  Geraldine !  "  repeated  the  Earl  of 
Surrey. 

"  Here  I  am,  my  Henry !  " 

With  an  outburst  of  delight,  the  wo- 
man rushed  forward  toward  the  sound 
of  the  beloved  voice. 

"  The  queen !  "  murmured  Henry,  and 
involuntarily  he  felt  his  heart  seized  with 
a  bitter  pang. 

He  saw  with  his  inward  eye  how  they 
held  each  other  in  close  embrace;  he 
could  even  hear  the  kisses  which  they 
exchanged,  and  the  soft  whispers  of  their 
mutual  endearments ;  and  all  the  bitter- 
ness of  jealousy  and  anger  filled  his  soul. 
But  still  the  king  succeeded  in  preserving 
silence  and  self-restraint,  and  devoured 
his  rage  inwardly.  He  wished  to  hear 
all — to  know  all. 

.  He  clasped  his  hands  convulsively  in 
each  other,  and  pressed  his  lips  firmly 
together,  in  order  to  check  his  troubled 
breathing.  He  wanted  to  hear. 

How  happy  they  both  were  !  Henry 
Howard  had  quite  forgotten  that  he  had 
come  in  order  to  reproach  her  for  her 
long  silence.  She,  on  her  part,  had  no 
thought  that  this  was  to  be  the  last 
time  she  should  see  the  man  whom  she 
loved. 

They  were  now  together,  and  their 
hours  were  their  own.  "What  cared  they 
for  the  whole  world — why  stop  to  in- 
quire if  afterward  ruin  and  destruction 
should  overtake  them. 

They  sat  down  side  by  side  on  an  otto- 


man which  stood  at  a  short  distance 
from  the  boudoir.  They  jested  and 
laughed  in  playful  dalliance,  and  Henry 
Howard  kissed  away  the  tears  whicfc 
the  rapture  of  the  moment  drew  from 
the  eyes  of  his  Geraldine. 

He  vowed  to  her  eternal,  unchanging 
love.  In  blissful  silence  she  drank  in  the 
music  of  his  words,  and  then  with  exult- 
ant delight  she  returned  the  vows  which 
he  had  pledged. 

The  king  was  now  scarcely  able  any 
longer  to  curb  his  rage. 

The  heart  of  Lord  Douglas  bounded 
with  satisfaction  and  content.  "How 
fortunate  that  Jane  does  not  suspect  our 
presence,"  he  thought.  "She  would 
otherwise  have  been  more  reserved  and 
less  ardent,  and  the  ear  of  the  king 
would  have  imbibed  less  poison." 

Lady  Jane  never  bestowed  a  thought 
upon  her  father ;  scarcely  even  did  she 
remember  that  her  hated  rival,  the 
queen,  would  this  night  be  brought  to 
ruin. 

Henry  Howard  had  only  called  her  his 
Geraldine.  Jane  had  quite  forgotten 
that  it  was  not  herself  to  whom  her 
lover  had  given  this  name. 

But  at  length  he  reminded  her  of  it 
himself. 

"Do  you  know,  Geraldine,"  said  the 
Earl  of  Surrey,  and  his  voice  which  had 
hitherto  been  so  blythe  and  gladsome, 
now  became  sad. — "  Do  you  know,  Ger- 
aldine, that  I  had  begun  to  doubt  you  ? 
Oh,  these  were  fearful,  terrible  hours, 
and  in  my  agony  of  mind  I  at  length 
formed  the  resolution  of  going  to  the 
king  and  accusing  myself  of  this  love 


•TIIK   QUEEN,"  MURMURED  HENRY. 


P  232. 


THE   QUEEN. 


233 


which  consumed  me  inwardly.  Oh, 
don't  be  alarmed  !  I  would  not  have  ac- 
cused you,  Geraldine — nay,  I  would  even 
have  denied  this  love  which  you  have  so 
often  avowed  in  words  that  filled  me 
with  rapture.  I  would  have  done  so,  in 
order  to  discover  if  my  Geraldine  could 
eventually  gain  the  strength  arid  courage 
to  confess  her  love  freely  and  openly — if 
her  heart  had  the  power  of  bursting 
asunder  those  iron  shackles  which  the 
deceitful  laws  of  the  world  had  imposed 
upon  it — if  she  would  still  cleave  to  her 
lover  when  he  might  be  condemned  to 
die  for  her  sake.  Yes,  Geraldine,  I  in- 
tended to  do  this,  in  order  that  I  might 
know  at  length  whether  you  were 
swayed  most  by  love  or  by  pride,  and 
whether  you  could  even  then  preserve 
the  mask  of  indifference,  when  death 
should  flap  his  wings  around  your  lover's 
head.  Oh,  Geraldine,  I  would  have 
thought  it  a  far  more  enviable  fate  to  die 
united  with  thee  than  to  be  compelled 
any  longer  to  bear  this  life  of  constraint 
and  hateful  etiquette." 

"No,  no,"  she  replied,  trembling. 
"  We  will  not  die  !  Life  is  filled  with 
loveliness  when  you  are  beside  me,  and 
who  knows  if  a  happy  and  blissful  future 
does  not  yet  await  us  ?  " 

"But  were  we  to  die  we  should  be 
certain  of  this  blissful  future,  my  Geral- 
dine !  In  the  realms  beyond  the  skies 
we  shall  no  longer  be  separated  or  held 
apart ;  for  there  you  will  be  mine,  and 
the  blood-stained  form  of  your  hus- 
band will  no  longer  stand  between 
us!  " 

"  Nay,  even  here  upon  earth  it  shall 


no  longer  stand  between  us,"  whispered 
Geraldine.  "Come,  my  Henry,  let  us 
fly,  far,  far  hence,  where  we  shall  be 
unknown,  and  where  we  can  fling  aside 
all  this  wretched  splendor,  in  order 
to  live  for  ourselves,  and  for  love 
alone ! " 

She  threw  her  arms  around  her  lover, 
and  in  the  extasy  of  her  passion  she  quite 
forgot  that  she  could  never  dare  to  fly 
with  him,  and  that  he  was  hers  only  so 
long  as  he  did  not  see  her. 

An  inexplicable  anxiety  overpowered 
her  heart,  and  this  emotion  had  made 
her  forget  all — even  the  queen,  and  the 
vengeance  which  she  had  promised  her- 
self. 

She  now  remembered  the  words  of 
her  father,  and  she  trembled  for  the  fate 
of  her  lover. 

If  her  father  had  not  told  her  the 
truth — if  rather,  in  order  to  ruin  the 
queen,  he  had  sacrificed  Henry  Howard ! 
If  she  were  not  in  a  position  to  save  him, 
and  that  he,  through  her  fault,  should 
fall  a  victim  on  the  scaffold  ! 

But  the  fleeting  moments  were  still 
her  own,  and  she  would  fain  enjoy  them 
ere  they  sped. 

She  clung  round  her  lover's  neck,  and 
clasped  him  with  irresistible  force  to  her 
heart,  which  now  no  longer  trembled 
with  love,  but  with  emotions  of  unspeak- 
able anxiety. 

"  Let  us  fly,  let  us  fly !  "  she  repeated 
breathless.  "  The  present  hour  is  still 
our  own,  let  us  avail  ourselves  of  it, 
for  who  knows  if  the  next  will  belong 
to  us?" 

"  No,  it  will  not  belong  to  you!  "  cried 


234 


HENRY  YIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


the  king,  springing  forward  from  his 
chair  like  an  enraged  lion.  "  Your  hours 
are  already  numbered,  and  the  next  be- 
longs to  the  headsman  !  " 

A  piercing  shriek  burst  from  Geral- 
dine's  lips,  and  then  a  dull  sound  was 
heard — as  of  one  who  had  fallen  to  the 
ground. 

"  She  has  swooned,"  murmured  Doug- 
las. 

"  Geraldine !  Geraldine !  my  beloved," 
cried  Henry  Howard.  "  Gracious  hea- 
vens, she  is  dying,  ye  have  killed  her ! 
Woe  betide  ye  I  " 

"  Woe  betide  thyself!  "  said  the  king, 
with  grave  solemnity.  "Forward  with 
lights,  here,  my  men !  " 

The  door  of  the  anteroom  opened, 
and  four  men  bearing  torches  immedi- 
ately appeared. 

"  Give  us  lights  here,  and  guard  the 
door !  "  said  the  king,  whose  dazzled 
eyes  were  yet  unable  to  bear  the  bright 
glare  which  now  suddenly  tilled  the  sa- 
loon. 

The  soldiers  obeyed  his  commands. 
A  pause  ensued.  The  king  placed  his 
hand  before  his  eyes  and  struggled  for 
breath  and  composure. 

When  at  length  he  withdrew  his 
hand,  his  features  had  assumed  a  perfect- 
ly placid  and  almost  cheerful  expression. 
With  a  sudden  glance  he  scanned  the 
whole  scene.  He  saw  the  queen  in  her 
gold-giistening  attire;  he  saw  how  she 
lay  upon  the  floor,  stretched  at  full 
length  with  her  face  toward  the  ground, 
stiff  and  motionless. 

He  saw  Henry  Howard,  who  knelt 
beside  his  beloved  one,  and  who  with 


all  the  anxious  pangs  of  a  lover  was 
bending  over  her.  He  saw  how  he 
pressed  her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  how 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head  to  raise 
it  from  the  ground. 

The  king  was  speechless  with  rage; 
he  could  only  raise  his  arm  in  order  to 
beckon  to  the  soldiers  to  approach,  and 
to  point  to  Henry  Howard,  who  had 
not  yet  succeeded  in  lifting  the  queen 
from  her  prostrate  position. 

"  Seize  him !  "  cried  Lord  Douglas, 
lending  utterance  to  the  silent  nod  of 
the  king.  "  Seize  him  in  the  king's 
name,  and  conduct  him  to  the  Tower  [  " 

"  Yes,  seize  him  !  "  said  tlie  king,  and 
advancing  with  youthful  alacrity  tow- 
ard Henry  Howard,  and  laying  his  hand 
heavily  on  the  shoulders  of  the  young 
earl,  he  continued  with  awful  calmness : 
u  Henry  Howard,  your  wishes  shall  be 
fulfilled, — you  shall  mount  the  scaffold 
for  which  you  have  such  an  ardent  long- 
ing." 

The  noble  countenance  of  the  earl  re- 
mained placid  and  unmoved  : — his  clear, 
beaming  eye,  fearless  and  unflinching, 
met  the  king's  anger-darting  glance. 

"  Sire,"  he  replied,  "  my  life  is  in 
your  hands,  and  I  know  you  will  not 
spare  it !  I  do  not  therefore  beg  for  it. 
Only  spare  this  noble  and  beautiful  lady, 
whose  only  crime  is  that  she  followed 
the  dictates  of  her  heart !  I  alone,  sire, 
am  culpable.  Punish  me,  therefore — 
even  with  the  rack,  if  it  so  please  you — 
but  be  merciful  to  her !  " 

The  king  burst  into  a  fit  of  loud 
laughter.  "  Ah,  he  intercedes  for  her." 
said  he.  "This  little  Earl  of  Surrey 


THE  QUEEN. 


235 


of  ours,  has  the  assurance  to  think  that 
his  sentimental  woes  can  influence  the 
heart  of  his  judge!  No,  no,  Henry 
Howard,  you  know  me  better!  You 
said  just  now  I  was  a  cruel  man,  and 
that  ray  crown  was  stained  with  blood. 
Be  it  so :  it  pleases  us  to  set  a  fresh 
blood-ruby  in  our  crown,  and  if  it  be 
our  will  to  take  it  from  Geraldine's 
heart  your  poetic  effusions  won't  hinder 
us,  my  good  little  earl.  That  is  my  an- 
swer for  you,  and  I  believe  this  will  be 
the  last  time  that  we  shall  meet  again 
in  this  world  !  " 

"Then  we  shall  again  meet  in  the 
world  to  come,  King  Henry  of  Eng- 
land !  "  said  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  solemn- 
ly. "  Before  a  higher  tribunal,  Henry 
the  Eighth  will  no  longer  be  a  judge, 
but  a  condemned  criminal,  and  his 
bloodthirsty  and  accursed  deeds  will 
testify  against  him." 

The  king  laughed.  "You  are  now 
taking  advantage  of  your  position,"  he 
replied.  "  As  you  have  nothing  more  to 
lose,  and  that  the  scaffold  is  your  certain 
doom,  you  incur  no  risk  in  filling  up  the 
measure  of  your  sins  by  blaspheming 
the  king,  whom  God  has  sent  to  rule 
over  you.  But  you  should  reflect,  my 
lord,  that  before  the  scaffold  comes  the 
rack,  and  that  it  is  very  possible  some 
crucial  questions  may  be  addressed  to 
the  noble  Earl  of  Surrey,  in  answering 
which,  his  tortures  may  offer  some  im- 
pediment. And  now— away !  We  have 
nothing  more  to  say  to  each  other  upon 
earth." 

Upon  a  signal  from  the  king,  the 
soldiers  approached  the  earl.  When 


they  stretched  out  their  hands  to  seize 
him,  he  glanced  at  them  with  such  a 
lofty  and  commanding  air  that  they  in- 
voluntarily drew  back. 

"Follow  me!"  said  Henry  Howard, 
calmly,  and,  without  deigning  to  cast 
another  look  at  the  king,  he  strode  with 
proudly  raised  head  toward  the  door. 

Geraldine  still  lay  on  the  floor  with 
her  face  toward  the  ground.  She  con- 
tinued motionless,  and  seemed  to  have 
fallen  into  a  deep  swoon.  Except  that 
when  the  door  closed  with  a  heavy  crash 
behind  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  a  faint  moan- 
ing was  heard,  like  the  sigh  which  bursts 
from  the  dying  in  their  final  agony. 

The  king  heeded  it  not.  He  still  con- 
tinued to  look  with  a  morose  and  angry 
scowl  toward  the  door  through  which 
the  Earl  of  Surrey  had  passed. 

"  He  is  inflexible,"  he  murmured  ; 
u  even  the  rack  has  no  terrors  for  him  ; 
and  in  his  haughty  and  blasphemous 
pride,  he  went  forth  into  the  midst  of 
the  soldiers, — not  like  a  prisoner,  but 
like  a  commander.  Oh,  these  Howards 
have  been  predestined  for  my  martyr- 
dom, and  even  their  death  will  scarcely 
afford  me  full  satisfaction !  " 

"  Sire,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  who  had 
watched  the  king  with  a  keen,  penetrat- 
ing eye,  and  who  know  that  the  mon- 
arch had  now  reached  that  climax  of 
his  anger  when  he  recoiled  from  no 
deed  of  violence  or  cruelty,  "  Sire,  you 
have  sent  the  Earl  of  Surrey  to  the 
Tower.  But  what  is  to  be  done  with 
the  queen,  who  lies  there  on  the  floor 
fainting  ? " 

The  king  recovered  from  his  moody 


236 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


reflections,  and  turned  his  blood-shot 
eyes  toward  the  motionless  form  of  Ger- 
aldine,  with  such  a  fierce  look  of  hatred 
and  rage  that  Lord  Douglas  said  to  him- 
self exultingly : 

"  The  queen  is  lost  1  He  will  he  inex- 
orahle  " 

uAh.  the  queen?"  exclaimed  Henry, 
with  a  grim  laugh.  "  Why,  truly,  I  for- 
got the  queen !  This  charming  Geraldine 
had  escaped  my  thoughts.  But  you  are 
right,  Douglas,  we  must  think  of  her, 
and  just  consider  for  a  moment  what  is 
to  be  done.  Did  you  not  say  that  a 
second  coach  was  in  readiness?  Very 
well,  then,  we  will  not  hinder  Geraldine 
from  following  her  lover.  Where  he  is 
she  should  be.  In  the  Tower  and  upon 
the  scaffold !  We  will  therefore  rouse 
up  this  sentimental  lady,  and  show  her 
a  final  act  of  courtesy  by  conducting 
her  to  her  coach !  " 

He  was  about  to  approach  the  pros- 
trate form  of  the  queen,  when  Lord 
Douglas  restrained  him. 

"Sire,"  he  said,  "it  is  my  duty  as 
your  faithful  subject,  who  loves  you,  and 
trembles  for  your  welfare. — it  is  my 
duty  to  beseech  you  to  spare  yourself, 
and  to  preserve  your  precious  and  wor- 
shipful person  from  the  envenomed 
stings  of  care  and  anger.  I  entreat  you, 
therefore,  not  to  bestow  upon  this  wo- 
man, who  has  so  deeply  offended  you, 
another  look  ;  command  me  as  to  what 
shall  be  done  with  her,  and  permit  me, 
first  of  all,  to  accompany  you  to  your 
chamber!  " 

"You  are  right,"  said  the  king ;  "  she 
is  not  worthy  that  my  eye  should  again 


rest  upon  her ;  she  is  even  unworthy  of 
my  anger.  We  will,  therefore  call  the 
soldiers,  and  let  them  conduct  this  arch- 
traitress  and  adulteress  to  the  Tower,  as 
they  have  conducted  her  paramour." 

"  One  formality  is  still  wanting  for 
that  purpose,  sire;  the  queen  will  not 
be  admitted  into  the  Tower  without  a 
written  order  signed  and  sealed  by  the 
king." 

"  Then  I  shall  prepare  such  order." 

"  Sire,  if  it  please  your  majesty,  the 
necessary  writing-materials  will  be  found 
in  this  cabinet  close  at  hand." 

The  king  leaned  in  silence  upon  the 
arm  of  Lord  Douglas,  and  suffered  him- 
self to  be  led  once  more  into  the  cabi- 
net. 

The  earl  made  all  preparations  with 
eager  speed.  He  rolled  forward  the 
writing  -  table  toward  the  king.  He 
laid  the  large  sheet  of  paper  straight, 
and  thrust  the  pen  into  the  king's  hand. 

"What  shall  I  write?"  asked  the 
king,  who  was  already  becoming  ex- 
hausted from  the  efforts  he  had  made  in 
his  nocturnal  excursion,  and  from  anger 
and  vexation. 

"An  order  for  the  imprisonment  of 
the  queen,  sire." 

The  king  wrote.  Lord  Douglas  stood 
behind  him  with  strained  attention,  and 
in  breathless  expectation, — his  looks 
firmly  fixed  on  the  paper  over  which 
glided  rapidly  the  white,  plump  hand  of 
the  king,  glistening  with  costly  rings. 

At  length  he  had  reached  the  goal.  If 
once  he  should  hold  in  his  hand  the  paper 
which  the  king  was  then  writing,  if  he 
afterward  should  have  induced  Henry  to 


THE   QUEEX. 


237 


return  to  his  chamber  before  the  seizure 
of  the  queen  had  ensued, — then  the  vic- 
tory was  his  own.  It  would  not  be  the 
woman  who  lay  there  prostrate  whom 
he  would  imprison ;  but  with  the  order 
for  committal  in  his  hand,  he  would  go 
to  the  real  queen,  and  conduct  her  to 
the  Tower. 

Once  in  the  Tower,  the  queen  could 
no  longer  justify  herself;  for  the  king 
would  see  her  no  more,  and  though  she 
should  protest  her  innocence  before  her 
judges  with  the  most  sacred  oaths,  yet 
the  testimony  of  the  king  would  convict 
her,  for  he  himself  had  surprised  her 
with  her  paramour. 

No ;  there  remained  no  further  escape 
for  the  queen.  She  had  once  succeeded 
in  clearing  herself  from  an  accusation, 
and  proving  her  innocence  by  a  well-es- 
tablished alibi;  but  on  this  occasion  she 
was  hopelessly  lost,  and  no  further  alibi 
could  set  her  free. 

The  king  had  finished  his  work,  and 
stood  up,  while  Douglas,  at  his  com- 
mand, was  busily  occupied  in  setting 
the  royal  seal  to  the  fateful  warrant. 

A  faint  sound  was  now  heard  in  the 
direction  of  the  saloon,  as  if  some  one 
were  moving  about  cautiously  there. 

Lord  Douglas  paid  no  attention  to  it ; 
he  was  just  in  the  act  of  applying  the 
seal  to  the  molten  wax. 

The  king,  however,  heard  it,  and 
suspected  it  might  be  Geraldine  who 
had  recovered  from  her  swoon,  and 
who  was  endeavoring  to  rise  from  the 
ground. 

He  stepped  forward  to  the  door  of  the 
cabinet,  and  looked  toward  the  spot 


where  she  lay ;  but  no — she  had  not  yet 
moved  from  her  prostrate  position. 

"She  has  recovered,  but  she  still 
feigns  insensibility,"  thought  the  king, 
and  he  turned  toward  Douglas. 

"Our  work  is  finished,"  said  he; 
"the  warrant  is  ready,  and  sentence 
has  already  been  pronounced  upon  the 
faithless  queen.  We  renounce  her 
from  this  time  forth,  and  never  more 
shall  she  behold  our  face,  or  hear  the 
sound  of  our  voice.  Her  sentence  and 
her  doom  are  already  pronounced,  and 
the  royal  favor  has  no  further  concern 
with  such  a  sinner.  A  curse  upon  the 
adulteress — a  curse  upon  the  shameless 
woman,  who  deceived  her  husband,  and 
who  gave  herself  up  to  a  traitorous 
paramour!  "Woe  betide  her,  and  may 
infamy  and  disgrace  ever  attend  her 
name,  which — " 

The  king  suddenly  broke  off  and  lis- 
tened. The  sound  which  he  had  pre- 
viously heard  now  became  louder  and 
more  distinct :  it  came  nearer  and 
nearer. 

And  now  the  door  opened,  and  a  fe- 
male form  entered — a  form  which  made 
the  king  grow  pale  with  wonder  and 
astonishment.  She  approached  nearer 
and  nearer,  radiant  with  youthful 
charms.  A  robe  of  gold  brocade  en- 
wrapped her  figure,  a  diadem  of  bril- 
liants gleamed  upon  her  brow,  and 
brighter  than  the  jewels  which  she  wore 
beamed  her  eyes. 

No,  the  king  was  not  deceived.  It 
was  the  queen.  She  stood  before  him ; 
and  yet  there  she  lay,  motionless,  and 
stiff  as  ever,  upon  the  floor  beyond. 


238 


HENRY   VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


The  king  uttered  an  exclamation,  and 
recoiled  with  terror  and  amazement. 

"  The  queen  !  "  cried  Lord  Douglas, 
and  he  trembled  so  violently  that  the 
paper  he  held  in  his  hand  shook  and 
waved  as  if  his  hand  were  palsied. 

"  Yes,  the  queen !  "  said  Katharine, 
with  a  proud,  triumphant  smile.  "  It  is 
the  queen,  who  comes  to  chide  her 
husband  for  being  awake  at  so  late  an 
hour  of  the  night,  contrary  to  the  ad- 
vice of  his  physician." 

uAnd  the  fool,"  said  John  Hey  wood, 
presenting  himself  with  a  look  of  comic 
pathos  behind  the  queen — "the  fool, 
who  comes  in  order  to  ask  Lord  Douglas 
how  he  dares  attempt  to  depose  John 
Heywood  from  his  office,  by  usurping 
the  place  of  court  fool  to  King  Henry, 
and  playing  all  sorts  of  stupid  antics  and 
masquerading  pranks  before  his  most 
gracious  majesty  ? " 

"  "Who,  then,"  cried  the  king,  darting 
at  Lord  Douglas  a  furious  and  scathing 
glance,  while  his  voice  trembled  with 
rage — "  who,  then,  is  that  woman  lying 
upon  the  floor?  Who  has  dared  to 
impose  upon  the  king  with  this  ac- 
cursed mummery,  and  to  calumniate  the 
queen  ? " 

"  Sire,"  said  Lord  Douglas,  who  well 
knew  that  upon  the  present  moment  de- 
pended his  own  and  his  daughter's  fu- 
ture destiny,  and  to  whom  this  conscious- 
ness speedily  restored  his  composure  and 
presence  of  mind — "sire,  I  entreat  your 
majesty  for  a  moment's  private  con- 
versation, and  I  shall  completely  succeed 
in  explaining  matters  to  your  satisfac- 
tion." 


"Do  not  grant  his  request,  brother 
Henry,"  said  John  Heywood  "he  is  a 
dangerous  juggler,  and  who  knows  but 
that  in  this  private  colloquy  he  might 
attempt  to  convince  you  that  he  is  the 
king,  and  that  you  are  nothing  but  his 
cringing,  fawning  and  hypocritical  ser- 
vant, Lord  Archibald  Douglas? " 

"  My  lord  and  husband,  I  beg  of  you 
to  hear  the  justification  of  the  earl," 
said  Katharine,  with  a  bewitching  smile. 
"  It  would  be  cruel  to  condemn  him  un- 
heard." 

"  I  will  hear  him,  but  it  shall  be  in 
your  presence,  Kate,  and  you  shall  your- 
self decide  if  his  justification  be  satis- 
factory." 

"No,  'prythee,  husband,"  said  Katha- 
rine, "Let  me  remain  quite  a  stranger 
to  the  intrigues  of  this  night,  so  that  I 
may  feel  no  animosity  or  anger,  and 
may  not  be  deprived  of  that  serenity 
and  confidence  which  I  so  greatly  need, 
to  enable  me  to  live  happily  in  the 
midst  of  my  enemies,  and  to  fulfil 
my  duties  as  a  wife,  smiling  by  your 
side." 

"  You  are  right,  Kate,"  said  the  king, 
thoughtfully.  "  You  have  many  enemies 
at  our  court,  and  we  must  take  blame  to 
ourself  that  we  have  not  always  succeed- 
ed in  stopping  our  ear  to  their  knavish 
whispers,  and  in  keeping  ourself  un- 
tainted by  the  poisonous  breath  of  their 
slander.  Our  heart  is  always  too  un- 
suspecting, and  we  can  never  fully  com- 
prehend what  loathsome  and  contempti- 
ble reptiles  the  majority  of  mankind  are 
— creatures  that  should  be  trodden 
under  foot,  but  never  admitted  to  one's 


THE   QUEEN. 


239 


bosom. — Come,  Lord  Douglas,  I  will 
hear  you ;  but  woe  betide  you  if 
you  should  not  be  able  to  justify  your- 
self! " 

He  retired  some  distance  to  tbe  deep 
embrasure  of  a  window.  Lord  Douglas 
followed  bim,  and  drew  tbe  beavy  velvet 
hangings  behind  bim. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  boldly  and  resolutely, 
"  The  question  now  to  be  determined  is, 
which  of  two  heads  you  prefer  handing 
over  to  the  executioner — mine  or  the 
Earl  of  Surrey's.  You  have  the  choice 
between  both  !  If  you  think  that  I  have 
dared  for  a  moment  to  deceive  you,  why 
send  me  at  once  to  the  Tower,  and  par- 
don the  noble  Henry  Howard — that  he 
may  still  continue  to  disturb  your  sleep 
and  to  poison  the  springs  of  your  happi- 
ness; that  he  may  court  popular  favor, 
and  perhaps  one  day  rob  your  son  of  the 
throne.  Here  is  my  head,  sire ;  it  is  for- 
feit to  the  headsman's  axe,  and  the  Earl 
of  Surrey  is  free!  " 

"No,  he  is  not  free,  nor  ever  shall 
be ! "  said  the  king,  gnashing  his 
teeth. 

"  Then,  my  liege,  I  am  justified,  and 
instead  of  blaming  you  will  thank  me! 
It  is  true  I  played  a  hazardous  game,  but 
I  did  so  in  the  interest  of  my  king — I 
did  so  because  I  loved  him,  and  because 
I  had  real  upon  his  lofty  but  clouded 
brow  the  thoughts  which  obscured  the 
mind  of  rny  sovereign  and  robbed  his 
nights  of  sleep.  You  wished  to  have 
Henry  Howard  in  your  power,  and  this 
crafty  and  dissembling  earl  knew  how 
to  hide  his  guilt  securely  under  the  mask 
of  virtue  and  noble  bearing.  But  I  knew 


him,  and  perceived  behind  the  mask  his 
countenance  dimmed  by  crime  and  pas- 
sion. I  resolved  to  unmask  him,  but  for 
that  purpose  it  was  necessary  that  I 
should  first  deceive  him,  and  even  de- 
ceive yourself  for  the  moment.  I  knew 
that  he  cherished  a  criminal  love  for  the 
queen,  and  I  wished  to  take  advantage 
of  this  infatuated  passion,  in  order  to 
lead  him  on  securely  and  inevitably  to 
the  punishment  which  he  so  well  de- 
served. But  I  was  unwilling  to  involve 
the  chaste  and  noble  person  of  the 
queen  in  the  toils  which  we  had  spread 
to  ensnare  the  Earl  of  Surrey.  I  was 
therefore  compelled  to  seek  a  substitute 
for  her,  and  I  did  so.  There  is  at  your 
court  a  lady  whose  whole  heart  belongs, 
next  to  God,  to  her  king,  and  who  wor- 
ships him  so  devotedly,  that  she  would 
be  ready  at  any  hour  to  sacrifice  for  him 
her  heart's  blood — her  whole  existence 
—nay,  her  honor  itself,  if  necessary ; — a 
lady,  sire,  who  lives  by  your  smile,  who 
looks  up  to  you  as  to  her  Saviour  and 
Redeemer, — a  lady  whom  at  your  will 
you  might  make  either  a  saint  or  a 
courtesan,  and  who  in  order  to  gain 
your  favor  would  become  an  unblush- 
ing Phryne  or  a  chaste  and  spotless 
vestal." 

"  Tell  me  her  name,  Douglas,  tell  me 
her  name,"  said  the  king!  "It  is  a 
precious  and  a  rare  happiness  to  be  loved 
so  devotedly,  and  it  would  be  a 
shame  not  to  wish  to  enjoy  such  good 
fortune !  " 

"Sire,  I  shall  tell  you  her  name,  when 
you  declare  you  have  pardoned  me," 
said  Douglas,  whose  heart  bounded  with 


24:0 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


joy,  and  who  understood  quite  well  that 
the  king's  anger  was  already  mitigated, 
and  the  danger  almost  overcome.  "  To 
this  lady  I  said  :  'You  must  render  the 
king  a  great  service — you  must  free  him 
from  his  most  powerful  and  most  dan- 
gerous enemy  !  You  must  deliver  him 
from  Henry  Howard  ! '  '  Tell  me  what 
I  must  do  ! '  she  cried,  with  looks  beam- 
ing with  delight.  '  Henry  Howard  loves 
the  queen.  You  must  take  the  queen's 
place  for  him!  You  must  receive  his 
letters,  and  reply  to  them  in  the  name  of 
the  queen ;  you  must  afford  him  noc- 
turnal interviews,  and,  favored  by  the 
darkness  of  the  night,  make  him  believe 
that  it  is  the  queen,  whom  he  holds  in 
his  arms.  You  must  convince  him  that 
the  queen  returns  his  passion,  so  that  in 
thought  and  in  deed  he  must  be  placed 
before  the  king  as  a  traitor  and  a  delin- 
quent whose  head  is  forfeit  to  the  exe- 
cutioner's axe.  Some  day  we  shall  let 
the  king  be  a  witness  of  one  of  the  in- 
terviews which  Henry  Howard  believes 
he  is  holding  with  the  queen,  and  it  will 
then  be  in  his  power  to  punish  his  ene- 
my for  his  criminal  and  death-worthy 
passion ! '  And  when  I  had  thus  ad- 
dressed the  lady,  sire,  she  said  with  a 
sad  smile :  *  The  task  which  you  impose 
upon  me  is  an  infamous  and  a  disgraceful 
one,  but  I  accept  it,  since  you  tell  me  I 
shall  thereby  render  the  king  a  service. 
I  shall  dishonor  myself  for  him,  but 
perhaps  for  doing  so  he  will  deign 
to  bestow  a  smile  upon  me,  and  then 
I  shall  feel  that  I  am  richly  reward- 
ed! '" 

"  Why,   this  woman  is  an   angel !  " 


cried  the  king,  with  ardor — "  an  angel 
before  whom  we  should  kneel  down 
and  worship.  Tell  me  her  name,  Doug- 
las !  " 

"As  soon  as  you  have  pardoned  me, 
sire  !  You  know  at  present  the  full  ex- 
tent of  my  guilt,  the  entire  measure  of 
my  culpability.  For  as  I  enjoined  that 
noble  woman — so  it  came  to  pass,  and 
Henry  Howard  has  gone  to  the  Tower 
in  the  firm  belief  that  it  was  the  queen 
whom  he  had  just  held  in  his  arms." 

"  But  why  did  you  also  suffer  me  to 
remain  in  this  belief,  Douglas?  Why 
did  you  also  fill  me  with  anger  against 
the  noble  and  virtuous  queen  ?  " 

"•  Sire,  I  dared  not  reveal  to  you  this 
deception  until  you  should  have  con- 
demned Surrey,  for  your  noble  and  gen- 
erous mind  would  have  recoiled  against 
punishing  him  for  an  offence  which  he 
had  not  committed,  and  in  your  first  an- 
ger you  would  have  blamed  this  devoted 
woman  who  sacrificed  herself  for  her 
king.1' 

"  It  is  true,"  said  the  king,  "  I  should 
not  have  known  this  noble  woman,  and 
instead  of  thanking,  I  would  have  crush- 
ed her." 

"  For  that  reason,  my  liege,  I  allowed 
matters  to  proceed  quietly,  even  until 
you  had  drawn  up  the  warrant  against 
the  queen.  But  remember,  sire,  that  I 
begged  you  to  return  to  your  chamber 
before  the  queen  should  be  seized. 
Well,  I  should  then  have  revealed  to 
you  the  entire  secret,  which  I  could  not 
disclose  in  the  presence  of  that  woman. 
For  she  would  have  died  with  shame  if 
she  suspected  that  you  were  aware  of 


THE   QUEEN. 


her  love ;  so  pure  and  self-devoting,  so 
silent  and  heroic  for  the  king." 

"She  shall  never  learn  it,  Douglas. 
But  satisfy  at  length  my  desire — tell  me 
her  name !  " 

"  Then,  sire,  you  have  pardoned  me  ? 
You  are  no  longer  angry  with  me  for 
having  ventured  to  deceive  you  ?  " 

"I  am.  no  longer  angry  with  you, 
Douglas,  for  you  have  done  right ;  it 
was  a  wily  and  a  daring  scheme  which 
you  hit  upon,  and  which  you  carried  out 
with  such  a  happy  result." 

"I  thank  you,  sire,  and  I  will  now 
tell  you  her  name.  The  lady,  sire,  who 
at  my  request  presented  herself  as  a 
sacrifice  before  this  guilty  earl,  who 
tolerated  his  amatory  protestations  and 
his  embraces,  in  order  to  render  a  ser- 
vice to  her  king,—  that  lady,  sire,  was 
my  daughter,  Lady  Jane  Douglas !  " 

"  Lady  Jane  !  "  cried  the  king.  "  No, 
no!  this  is  a  new  deception.  What, 
this  proud,  chaste,  and  unapproachable 
Lady  Jane — this  cold  and  beautiful  mar- 
ble statue,  had  really  a  heart  in  her 
bosom,  and  this  heart  belonged  to 
me?  This  Lady  Jane,  the  modest  and 
bashful  maiden,  to  have  made  for  my 
sake  the  immense  sacrifice  of  taking  the 
odious  Surrey  for  her  paramour,  in  order 
like  a  second  Delilah  to  deliver  him  into 
my  hand*  ?  No,  Douglas — you  are  deceiv- 
ing me.  Lady  Jane  has  not  done  this !  " 

"  May  it  please  your  majesty  to  satisfy 
yourself  by  seeing  the  woman  who  now 
lies  in  a  swoon  beyond,  and  who  per- 
sonated the  queen  for  Henry  Howard." 

The  king  did  not  reply,  but  drew  the 
hangings  aside,  and  again  entered  the 
16 


Uim 


cabinet  in 
with  John 

Henry  paid  her  no  attention;  with 
youthful  eagerness  he  passed  through 
the  cabinet  and  entered  the  saloon.  He 
now  stood  beside  the  form  of  Geraldine, 
still  prostrate  on  the  floor. 

She  was  no  longer  in  a  swoon;  she 
had  already  regained  her  consciousness, 
but  her  heart  was  rent  with  pangs  of 
the  bitterest  anguish.  Henry  Howard 
had  become  a  victim  to  the  headsman's 
axe,  and  it  was  she  who  had  betrayed 
him. 

But  her  father  had  sworn  to  her  that 
she  should  save  the  life  of  her  lover. 

It  was  not  therefore  permitted  her  to 
die.  She  felt  that  she  must  live  in  order 
to  set  Henry  Howard  free. 

Her  poor  heart  was  aglow  with  the 
consuming  fire  of  remorse,  but  she 
dared  not  think  of  her  own  agony.  She 
dared  not  think  of  herself,  but  of  him 
whom  she  was  bound  to  set  free  and 
deliver  from  death. 

It  was  for  him  she  was  uttering  a 
fervent  prayer  to  God — for  him  her 
heart  was  trembling  with  pain  and  an- 
guish, when  the  king  now  approached 
her,  and  bending  down,  scanned  her 
features  with  a  smiling  expression  of  a 
peculiar  and  inquiring  character. 

"  Lady  Jane  Douglas,"  said  he,  at 
length,  extending  to  her  his  hand,  "  rise 
from  the  ground,  and  allow  your  king  to 
thank  you  for  your  noble  and  generous 
self-sacrifice!  Truly,  the  lot  of  a  king 
is  a  happy  one,  for  we  have  at  least  the 
power  of  punishing  traitors  and  of  re- 
warding those  who  serve  us.  The  one  I 


[RY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


have  already  done,  and  the  other  I  will 
not  neglect.  Rise,  therefore,  Lady 
Jane;  it  does  not  become  you  to  lie  on 
your  knees  at  my  feet !  " 

"  Oh,  let  me  kneel,  my  liege,"  she  ex- 
claimed in  accents  of  passionate  entreaty 
— "let  me  kneel  and  implore  you  for 
mercy  and  pardon !  Have  compassion, 
King  Henry — have  pity  for  the  anguish 
and  torment  which  I  suffer.  It  is  impos- 
sible that  all  this  should  he  true — that 
this  allusion  should  become  such  a  terri- 
ble reality.  Tell  me,  King  Henry,  I  be- 
seech you  by  the  agonies  which  I  endure 
for  your  sake — tell  me  what  you  pur- 
pose doing  with  Henry  Howard  ?  Why 
have  you  sent  him  to  the  Tower? " 

"  In  order  to  punish  the  traitor  as  he 
deserves,"  said  the  king,  glancing  with  a 
fierce  and  angry  scowl  at  Douglas,  who 
had  also  approached  his  daughter,  and 
who  now  stood  close  beside  her. 

Lady  Jane  uttered  a  heart-rending 
shriek,  and  sank  once  more  exhausted  to 
the  ground. 

The  king's  brow  became  suddenly 
clouded.  "  It  is  possible,"  said  he, 
"and  I  can  well  believe  the  fact,  that  I 
have  this  night  been  deceived  in  many 
ways — that  my  simplicity  has  been 
trifled  with,  in  order  to  concoct  for  me  a 
very  pretty  fable.  In  the  mean  time  I 
have  promised  to  forgive,  and  it  shall 
not  be  said  that  Henry  the  Eighth,  who 
calls  himself  the  champion  of  God,  has 
ever  broken  his  royal  word,  or  has  ever 
punished  those  to  whom  he  had  promised 
impunity.  My  Lord  Douglas,  I  shall  keep 
my  word !  I  pardon  you  !  " 

He  presented  his  band  to  the  earl,  who 


pressed  it  fervently  to  his  lips.  The 
king  drew  closer  to  him. 

"Douglas,"  he  whispered,  "you  have 
the  wisdom  of  the  serpent,  but  I  now  see 
through  the  plot  which  you  so  artfully 
concocted  !  You  wished  to  ruin  Surrey, 
but  the  queen  was  to  sink  with  him  into 
the  abyss.  While  I  thank  you  on  ac- 
count of  Surrey,  I  pardon  you  what  you 
have  done  against  the  queen.  Beware 
however,  beware,  ^  lest  I  should  once 
more  catch  you  on  the  same  path  ;  do 
not  dare  by  a  word,  a  look,  nay,  even  by 
a  smile,  to  raise  suspicion  against  your 
royal  mistress.  The  slightest  attempt 
would  cost  you  your  life  ;  that  I  swear 
to  you  by  the  Holy  Mother  of  God,  and 
you  know  that  I  have  never  broken  this 
oath !  As  regards  Lady  Jane,  we  will 
forget  that  she  has  abused  the  name  of 
our  illustrious  and  virtuous  spouse,  for 
the  purpose  of  drawing  this  lustful  and 
guilty  earl  into  the  snare  which  you  have 
laid  for  him.  She  has  obeyed  your  com- 
mand, Douglas,  and  we  will  not  now 
decide  what  further  motives  may  have 
urged  her  to  this  deed.  That  she  must 
determine  before  God  and  her  con- 
science :  it  does  not  become  us  to  settle 
the  question." 

"  But  perhaps,  my  lord  and  husband, 
it  becomes  me  to  inquire  by  what  right 
Lady  Jane  Douglas  has  dared  to  appear 
in  this  place  in  her  present  attire,  and 
in  a  certain  manner  to  present  a  coun- 
terfeit of  her  queen  ?  "  said  Katharine,  in 
a  tone  of  firmness  and  decision.  "  I  may 
well  be  allowed  to  ask  what  has  caused 
my  maid  of  honor,  who  left  the  ban- 
quet-room from  indisposition,  to  become 


THE   QUEEN. 


243 


so  well  of  a  sudden,  that  she  is  able  to 
wander  about  the  palace  by  night,  and  in 
such  array  that  it  might  readily  be  con- 
founded with  mine.  I  ask,  sire,  if  per- 
chance this  disguise  was  a  cunningly 
contrived  artifice  for  the  purpose  of  ef- 
fecting a  supposed  identity?  You  are 
silent,  my  lord?  Then  it  is  true  that 
there  was  a  terrible  plot  laid  here  against 
me ;  and  without  the  aid  of  my  honest 
and  faithful  friend,  John  Hey  wood,  who 
led  me  hither,  I  should,  doubtless,  at  the 
present  moment  have  been  condemned 
and  ruined,  like  the  Earl  of  Surrey." 

"Ah,  John!  then  it  was  you  who 
threw  a  little  light  upon  these  dark 
doings,"  said  the  king,  with  a  good-hu- 
mored laugh,  as  he  laid  his  hand  upon 
Hey  wood's  shoulder.  "Well,  truly, 
what  the  wise  and  prudent  were  unable 
to  discover,  the  fool  has  completely  fath- 
omed !  " 

"King  Henry  of  England,"  said  John 
Hey  wood,  with  solemn  gravity,  "  many 
call  themselves  wise  men,  and  yet  are 
fools,  and  many  only  assume  the  mask  of 
folly,  because  the  fool  alone  is  permitted 
to  be  a  wise  man  !  " 

"Kate."  said  the  king,  "you  are 
right — this  was  for  you  a.  night  of  evil 
omen ;  But  God  and  the  fool  have  saved 
both  you  and  me.  Let  us  both  be  thank- 
ful for  it !  But  it  is  well  if  you  do  as  you 
first  intended,  and  inquire  no  further 
concerning  the  enigmas  of  this  night.  It 
was  brave  of  you  to  come  hither,  and  we 
shall  not  be  unmindful  of  it.  Come,  my 
little  queen,  give  me  your  arm,  and  con- 
duct me  to  my  chamber.  I  tell  you, 
child,  it  gives  me  joy,  to  be  able  to  lean 


upon  your  arm,  and  to  see  your  charm- 
ing rosy  face,  which  shows  no  trace  of 
the  pallor  produced  by  fear,  or  by  an 
evil  conscience.  Come,  Kate,  you  alone 
shall  conduct  me,  and  in  you  alone  will 
I  confide !  " 

"Sire,  you  are  too  heavy  for  the 
queen,"  said  the  fool,  while  he  placed 
his  neck  under  the  other  arm  of  the  king, 
— "  Let  me  share  the  burden  of  royalty 
with  her." 

"  But  before  we  go,"  said  Katharine. 
"I  have  one  favor  to  ask.  Will  yon 
grant  it  ?  " 

"I  will  grant  every  thing  you  ask, 
provided  you  don't  request  me  to  send 
you  to  the  Tower." 

"  Sire,  I  wish  to  dismiss  my  maid  of 
honor,  Lady  Jane  Douglas,  from  her 
service,  that  is  all,"  said  the  queen, 
while  her  glance  was  directed  with  a 
mingled  expression  of  pity  and  contempt 
toward  the  form  of  her  quondam  friend, 
still  prostrate  on  the  floor. 

"  She  is  dismissed !  "  said  the  king. 
"You  shall  choose  another  maid  of 
honor  to-morrow.  Come,  Kate  !  " 

And  the  king,  supported  by  his  spouse 
and  by  John  Hey  wood,  quitted  the 
apartment  with  slow  and  unwieldy 


Lord  Douglas  looked  after  them  with 
a  sinister  and  vindictive  scowl ;  and 
when  the  door  closed  behind  them  he 
raised  his  arm  with  a  threatening  ges- 
ture, and  his  trembling  lips  <aive  utter- 
ance to  the  wildest  imprecations. 

"  Vanquished  !  —  once  more  van 
quished !  "  he  murmured,  gnashing  hie 
teeth.  "Humbled  by  this  woman, 


244 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


whom  I  hate,  and  whom  I  will  yet 
hring  to  ruin.  Yes,  she  has  conquered 
this  time,  hut  we  will  renew  the  strug- 
gle, and  our  poisoned  arrows  shall 
eventually  reach  her  heart !  " 

Suddenly  he  felt  a  hand  laid  heavily 
on  his  shoulder,  while  a  pair  of  eyes, 
glowing  and  flame-darting,  were  fixed 
upon  him. 

"Father,"  said  Lady  Jane,  and  she 
raised  her  right  hand  toward  heaven — 
"  father,  so  truly  as  there  is  a  heaven 
ahove  us,  I  will  accuse  you  as  a  traitor 
before  the  king,  and  betray  all  your 
execrable  intrigues,  if  you  do  not  aid 
me  in  liberating  Henry  Howard  !  " 

"With  an  expression  of  countenance 
almost  sorrowful,  her  father  scanned 
her  features,  which  were  haggard  and 
painfully  convulsed. 

"  I  will  help  you,"  he  replied.  "  I 
shall  do  so  if  you  will  also  help  me,  and 
promote  my  plans." 

"  Oh,  save  Henry  Howard,  only  save 
him,  and  I  will  bind  myself  to  Satan, 
and  seal  the  bond  with  my  own  life- 
blood  !  "  said  Lady  Jane,  with  a  ghastly 
smile.  "  Save  his  life,  or  if  you  cannot 
do  that,  at  least  procure  me  the  happi- 
ness of  being  able  to  die  with  him !  " 


CHAPTEK    VII. 

THE   ILLUSION   DISPELLED. 

PARLIAMENT,  which  already  for  a  long 
time  had  never  dared  to  oppose  the  will 
of  the  king,  —  Parliament  had  pro- 


nounced its  sentence.  It  had  accused 
the  Earl  of  Surrey  of  high-treason,  and, 
upon  the  sole  testimony  of  his  mother 
and  of  his  sister,  he  was  found  guilty 
of  treason  and  lese-majeste.  A  few  casual 
expressions  of  ill-humor  for  having  been 
superseded  in  his  command — a  few  re- 
marks which  he  had  made  in  deprecat- 
ing the  executions  which  saturated  the 
soil  of  England  with  blood — was  all  that 
the  Duchess  of  Richmond  had  been  able 
to  bring  forward  against  him  ;  that  he, 
like  his  father,  had  borne  the  coat-of- 
arms  of  the  King  of  England,  was  the 
only  proof  of  high-treason  to  which  his 
mother,  the  Duchess  of  Norfolk,  was 
able  to  testify. 

These  charges  were  so  insignificant, 
that  the  Parliament  well  knew  they 
formed  no  grounds,  but  only  a  pretext 
for  his  committal. 

Only  a  pretext,  by  which  the  king 
said  to  his  pliant  and  trembling  Parlia- 
ment— "This  man  is  innocent;  but  I 
wish  you  to  condemn  him,  and  therefore 
you  must  consider  the  charges  estab- 
lished !  " 

The  Parliament  had  not  had  the  cour- 
age to  resist  the  will  of  the  sovereign. 
Its  members  were  little  better  than  a 
flock  of  sheep,  which,  trembling  before 
the  sharp  teeth  of  the  dog,  meekly  fol- 
low the  path  which  he  has  indicated  to 
them. 

The  king  wished  that  they  should 
condemn  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  and  they 
condemned  him  accordingly. 

They  summoned  him  before  their  tri- 
bunal, and  it  was  in  vain  that  he  proved 
to  them  his  innocence  in  glowing  words, 


THE   ILLUSION  DISPELLED. 


245 


which  seemed  inspired  ;  these  guardians 
of  the  public  weal  would  not  perceive 
that  he  was  innocent. 

There  were,  indeed,  a  few  who  felt 
ashamed  to  bow  their  heads  so  uncondi- 
tionally beneath  the  royal  sceptre,  which 
trickled  with  blood  like  an  executioner's 
axe.  There  were  a  few  to  whom  the 
evidence  appeared  insufficient,  but  they 
were  out-voted;  and  in  order  to  give 
his  Parliament  a  warning  example,  the 
king  caused  these  recalcitrant  members 
to  be  committed  to  prison  the  same  day, 
and  to  be  accused  of  some  crime  which 
his  fancy  suggested.  For  the  nation 
was  at  this  time  so  enslaved  by  the  fierce 
and  savage  barbarity  of  the  king — the 
people  so  degenerate  and  so  degraded  in 
their  self-consciousness,  that  public  men 
could  readily  be  found,  who,  in  order  to 
show  their  complaisance  to  the  king, 
and  their  subservience  to  his  bloodthirs- 
ty and  hypocritical  piety,  lowered  them- 
selves to  the  grade  of  spies  and  inform- 
ers, and  accused  of  crimes  those  whom 
the  angry  frown  of  the  king  had  indi- 
cated as  offenders. 

Accordingly  the  Parliament  had  con- 
demned to  death  the  Earl  of  Surrey, 
and  the  king  had  signed  the  death-war- 
rant. 

The  execution  was  to  take  place  early 
the  next  morning,  and  in  the  court-yard 
of  the  Tower  the  workmen  WCTV  a] 
busy  erecting  the  scaffold,  on  which  the 
head  of  the  noble  Surrey  was  soon  to 
fall. 

Henry  Howard  was  alone  in  his  pris- 
on. He  had  closed  with  life  and  with 
earthly  things.  He  had  set  his  house  in 


order,  and  had  made  his  will;  he  had 
written  to  his  mother  and  to  his  sister, 
and  had  pardoned  them  their  treachery 
and  their  accusations ;  he  had  written  a 
letter  to  his  father,  in  which,  with  noble 
and  touching  words,  he  exhorted  him  to 
be  calm  and  firm,  and  not  to  weep  for 
him — for  that  death  was  his  wish,  and 
the  grave  the  only  refuge  which  he 
sought. 

He  had,  accordingly,  as  we  have  said, 
closed  with  life,  and  earthly  things  gave 
him  no  more  concern.  He  was  troubled 
by  no  fears  and  no  regrets — life  had  le$ 
him  nothing  further  to  wish  for,  and  he 
almost  thanked  the  king  for  having  de- 
termined to  rid  him  so  speedily  of  this 
burden  of  existence. 

The  future  had  nothing  more  to  offer 
him — why,  therefore,  should  he  yearn 
for  it  ?  Why  covet  a  life  which  for  him 
could  only  be  a  gloomy  and  a  solitary 
wilderness  ?  For  Geraldine  was  lost  to 
him.  He  knew  not  her  fate,  and  no  in- 
formation about  her  had  penetrated  the 
dreary  walls  of  his  dungeon.  Was  the 
queen  still  alive?  or  had  the  king  in  his 
fury  struck  her  dead  on  that  night  when 
Henry  was  conducted  to  the  Tower,  and 
when  he  saw  his  beloved  for  the  last 
time  swooning,  numb,  and  prostrate,  at 
the  feet  of  her  husband  ? 

What  had  become  of  the  queen — of 
Henry  Howard's  beloved  Geraldine? 
He  knew  nothing  about  her.  In  vain 
had  he  hoped  for  some  sign,  for  some  in- 
telligence, but  he  had  not  dared  to  ask 
anybody  as  to  her  fate.  Perchance  the 
king  had  abstained  from  punishing  her. 
Perad venture  his  lust  for  blood  was  ap- 


246 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


peased  by  slaying  Henry  Howard,  and 
that  Katharine  had  escaped  the  block. 
It  might,  therefore,  have  been  ruinous 
to  her,  had  he,  the  condemned,  made  in- 
quiry respecting  her.  Or,  if  she  had 
gone  before  him,  he  was  sure  of  meeting 
her  once  more  in  a  higher  sphere,  and 
of  being  eternally  united  with  her  in 
realms  beyond  the  skies. 

He  believed  in  this  future  existence, 
and  love  added  strength  to  his  belief. 
Death  had  no  terrors  for  him,  for  be- 
yond the  grave  he  should  see  her — his 
Geraldine — who  was  either  already  await- 
ing him  in  their  eternal  home,  or  would 
soon  follow  him  thither. 

Life  had  nothing  more  to  offer  him — 
death  united  him  with  his  beloved.  He 
greeted  Death  as  his  friend  and  deliverer 
— as  the  priest  who  should  unite  him  for- 
ever with  his  Geraldine. 

He  heard  the  large  clock  of  the  prison- 
tower,  as  it  announced  the  hours  with  a 
monotonous  stroke,  and  he  greeted  each 
expiring  hour  with  a  throb  of  joyful  ex- 
ultation— the  evening  came,  and  night 
followed ;  the  last  night  which  was  yet 
allotted  him — the  last  night  which 
separated  him  from  Geraldine. 

The  jailer  opened  the  door,  in  order 
to  bring  the  earl  a  light  and  to  attend  to 
his  commands.  Heretofore  the  king  had 
given  special  directions  that  he  should 
not  be  allowed  light  in  his  dungeon  ; 
and  he  had  therefore  passed  six  long  and 
dreary  nights  in  his  prison.  This  night, 
however,  they  had  resolved  to  furnish 
him  with  light,  and  to  grant  him  what- 
ever he  might  still  desire.  Life,  which 
v  in  a  few  hours  he  would  have  to  relin- 


quish, should  once  more  provide  him 
with  all  the  pleasures  and  all  the  enjoy- 
ments which  he  might  wish  to  demand. 
Henry  Howard  had  only  to  express  a 
wish,  and  the  prison-keeper  was  ready 
to  grant  his  request. 

But  Henry  Howard  wished  for  noth- 
ing; he  asked  for  nothing,  but  that  he 
should  be  left  alone — that  light,  which 
dazzled  his  sight  and  which  opposed  a 
stern  reality  to  his  rapturous  visions, 
should  be  removed  from  his  dun- 
geon. 

The  king,  who  had  determined  to  sub- 
ject him  to  a  special  punishment  in  con- 
demning him  to  darkness — the  king  had 
thus  become  his  benefactor  against  his 
will.  For  with  the  darkness  came  vis- 
ions and  illusions — with  the  darkness 
came  Geraldine. 

When  silence  and  night  had  enwrap- 
ped him  then  all  became  light  within,  and 
softly-murmured  whispers  and  a  sweet, 
seductive  voice  fell  soothingly  upon  his 
ear.  The  doors  of  his  prison  flew  open, 
and  upon  the  wings  of  imagination  Hen- 
ry Howard  took  flight  from  his  dark  and 
lonely  prison  cell.  Upon  the  wings  of 
imagination  he  sought  and  found  his 
Geraldine. 

She  was  still  beside  him  in  the  large 
silent  saloon.  Night  once  more  fell 
around  them  both,  and  discreetly  en- 
wrapped them  like  a  sweet  veil  of  en- 
chantment, concealing  their  embraces 
and  mutual  endearments.  Solitude  ena- 
bled him  again  to  catch  the  rapturous 
music  of  her  voice  which  sang  for  him 
such  melodious  strains  of  love  and  ecs- 
tasy. 


THE  ILLUSION  DISPELLED. 


247 


It  was  necessary  for  Henry  Howard 
to  be  alone,  in  order  that  he  might  be 
able  to  hear  the  voice  of  his  Geraldine ; 
it  was  necessary  that  deep  darkness 
should  surround  him,  in  order  that  Ger- 
aldine should  come  to  his  skle. 

For  the  last  night  of  his  life,  accord- 
ingly, he  demanded  nothing  more  than 
that  he  should  be  left  alone  and  without 
light.  The  jailer  extinguished  the 
light,  and  left  the  cell,  but  he  neither 
fixed  the  large  heavy  bolts  of  the  door, 
nor  did  he  turn  the  key  in  the  great 
lock:  he  merely  drew  the  door  slightly 
to,  and  did  not  even  fasten  the  latch. 

To  this,  however,  Henry  Howard  paid 
no  heed.  What  did  it  concern  him  if 
the  doors  were  no  longer  fastened — him, 
who  had  no  longer  a  wish  for  liberty  or 
for  life? 

Accordingly  he  reclined  upon  his  seat 
and  dreamt  with  open  eyes.  Yonder,  in 
the  court-yard,  was  being  erected  the 
scaffold,  which  Henry  Howard  should 
ascend  at  early  dawn.  The  dull  sounds 
of  the  hammer  reached  his  ear,  and  ever 
and  anon  the  torches  which  gave  light 
to  the  workmen  at  their  dreary  task, 
caused  a  faint  flicker  to  light  up  the  dun- 
geon, on  the  walls  of  which  spectral 
forms  seemed  to  dance. 

"These,"  thought  Henry  Howard, 
"are  the  spirits  of  those  whom  King 
Henry  has  put  to  death ;  they  gather 
round  me  like  will-o'-the-wisps — they 
are  dancing  with  me  the  dance  of  death, 
and  in  a  few  hours  I  shall  be  one  of  their 
own  forever !. " 

The  dull  strokes  of  the  hammer  and  of 
tho  axe  still  resounded  on,  and  Henry 


Howard  became  plunged  more  deeply  in 
contemplation  and  silent  musing. 

His  thoughts,  his  feelings,  and  his  will 
were  occupied  alone  with  Geraldine. 
His  whole  soul  was  filled  with  this  single 
idea.  He  felt  as  though  he  could  com- 
mand his  inind  to  see  her — as  though  he 
could  direct  his  senses  to  perceive  her. 
Yes,  she  was  there  present ;  he  felt  her, 
he  knew  her.  He  lay  once  more  at  her 
feet,  and  leaned  his  head  on  her  lap,  and 
listened  once  more  to  those  enchanting 
revelations  of  her  love. 

Wholly  absorbed  and  carried  away,  he 
felt,  he  saw,  naught  else  but  her.  The 
mystery  of  love  was  accomplished,  and, 
under  the  veil  of  night,  Geraldine  had 
soared  hither  on  airy  wings  to  meet 
him. 

A  radiant  smile  played  around  his 
lips,  which  murmured  forth  words  of 
rapturous  greeting.  Seized  with  a  sin- 
gular hallucination,  he  saw  his  beloved 
approach  ;  he  held  out  his  arms  to  em- 
brace her,  and  he  did  not  awake  from 
his  reverie,  even  when  instead  of  her  he 
grasped  the  empty  air. 

"  Wherefore  dost  thou  flee  from,  me, 
Geraldine?"  he  asked,  softly.  "Why 
dost  thou  withdraw  thyself  from  the 
arms  of  thy  lover,  to  whirl  about  with 
the  will-o'-the-wisps  in  the  danco  of 
death?  Come,  Geraldine,  come,  my 
soul  yearns  for  thee  with  ardent  longing 
—  my  heart  calls  to  thee  with  its  last 
waning  throb.  Come,  Geraldine,  oh 
come!  " 

What  was  that?  It  seemed  as  if  the 
door  had  opened  softly,  and  then  that 
the  latch  had  faintly  clicked.  It  seemed 


248 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


as  if  feet  were  floating  gently  along  the 
floor — as  if  some  human  form  obscured 
for  a  moment  the  flickering  glimmer 
which  danced  along  the  walls. 

Henry  Howard  did  not  perceive  it. 
He  saw  nothing  but  his  Geraldine,  for 
whose  presence  he  yearned  with  such 
ardent  longing.  He  once  more  held  out 
his  arms — he  called  her  by  name  with 
all  the  glowing  enthusiasm  of  a  lover. 

And  now  he  uttered  a  cry  of  rapture. 
His  prayer  of  love  was  granted.  The 
dream  had  become  a  reality.  His  arms 
no  more  embraced  the  empty  air — they 
folded  the  woman  whom  he  loved,  and 
for  whom  he  was  about  to  die.  to  his 
heart. 

He  pressed  his  lips  to  hers,  and  re- 
turned her  kisses  with  fervent  tender- 
ness; he  threw  his  arms  around  her 
form,  while  she  held  him  firmly  to  her 
bosom. 

Was  this  reality  ?  or  was  it  delirium 
that  had  seized  upon  his  brain  and  de- 
luded him  with  such  enthralling  fan- 
tasies ? 

Henry  Howard  shuddered  at  the 
thought,  and  falling  upon  his  knees,  he 
exclaimed  in  a  voice  tremulous  with 
anxiety  and  love :  "  Geraldine,  have 
pity  upon  me !  Assure  me  that  this  is 
no  dream — that  I  am  not  raving.  Tell 
me  that  thou  art  my  own  Geraldine 
whose  knees  I  now  embrace.  Speak, 
oh,  speak  my  Geraldine !  " 

"I  am  !  "  she  whispered,  softly.  "  I 
am  Geraldine,  I  am  the  woman  whom 
thou  lovest,  and  to  whom  thou  hast 
sworn  eternal  love  and  eternal  fidelity  ! 
Henry  Howard,  my  own  beloved,  let  me 


now  remind  thee  of  thy  vows !  Thy 
life  belongs  to  me — that  thou  hast 
promised — and  I  now  come  to  demand 
possession  of  my  treasure !  " 

"Yes,  my  life  belongs  to  thee,  Ger- 
aldine !  but  it  is  a  poor,  miserable  pos- 
session, which  thou  canst  call  thine  but 
for  a  few  short  hours." 

She  flung  her  arms  wildly  around  his 
neck,  she  raised  him  up  to  her  heart  and 
kissed  his  lips  and  his  brow  with  pas- 
sionate rapture.  He  felt  her  scalding 
tears  streaming  down  his  face,  he  heard 
her  sighs,  which  burst  from  her  bosom 
like  the  throes  of  death. 

"  Thou  shalt  not  die !  "  she  murmured 
sobbing.  "  No,  Henry,  thou  must  live, 
in  order  that  I,  too,  may  be  able  to  live 
— that  I  may  not  be  driven  frantic  with 
grief  and  pain  for  thee — oh,  dost  thou 
not  feel  how  I  love  thee — dost  thou  not 
know  that  thy  life  is  my  life,  and  thy 
death  my  death  ?  " 

He  leaned  his  head  on  her  shoulder, 
and,  intoxicated  with  happiness,  he 
scarce  heard  what  she  said.  She  was 
once  more  beside  him.  "What  cared  he 
for  aught  else. 

"  Geraldine,"  he  whispered,  softly, 
"  dost  thou  remember  that  night  when 
we  first  met  ?  How  our  hearts  beat  to- 
gether in  unison — with  what  rapturous 
emotion  our  lips  ....  Geraldine,  my 
bride,  my  beloved,  we  then  swore  that 
nothing  should  divide  us,  that  our  love 
should  endure  beyond  the  grave  !  Dost 
thou  still  remember  that,  Geraldine?  " 

"Yes,  I  remember  it,  my  Henry. 
But  thou  shalt  not  yet  die,  and  not  in 
death  but  in  life  shall  thy  love  put  mine 


THE  ILLUSION  DISPELLED. 


249 


to  the  test.  Yes,  we  will  live — live  on  ! 
And  thy  life  shall  be  ray  life,  and  where 
thou  art,  there  will  I  also  be.  Henry, 
dost  thou  remember  that  thou  hast 
promised  me  this  with  a  solemn  and 
sacred  vow  ?  " 

"I  remember  it,  but  I  cannot  keep 
my  word  with  thee,  Geraldine !  Hear- 
est  thou  the  hammer  at  work  below  in 
the  court-yard?  Dost  thou  know  what 
that  means,  dearest  one?  " 

"  Yes,  Henry,  I  know  it  is  the  scaffold 
which  they  are  erecting  for  thee — the 
scaffold  for  thee  and  for  me,  for  I  too 
will  die,  Henry,  if  you  do  not  live,  and 
the  axe  which  fulls  upon  thy  neck  shall 
also  reach  mine  if  thou  wilt  not  that 
we  both  should  live." 

"  I  am  quite  willing,  dearest  one,  but 
we  cannot  do  so." 

"  We  can,  Henry,  we  can !  All  is 
ready  for  flight!  All  is  arranged — all 
prepared.  The  king's  signet-ring  has 
opened  for  me  the  gates  of  the  Tower, 
and  tlie  might  of  gold  has  gained  me 
the  keeper  of  your  dungeon.  He  will, 
therefore,  not  perceive  it,  if  instead  of 
one  person,  two  should  leave  this  cell ; 
without  let  or  hinderanco,  we  shall  both 
leave  the  Tower  by  a  way  which  is 
known  but  to  him,  through  secret  corri- 
dors and  passages,  until  we  reach  a  boat 
which  is  lying  in  the  Thames  waiting 
for  us,  and  which  will  convey  us  to  a 
ship  lower  down  the  river,  ready  to  sail 
the  moment  we  have  got  on  board,  to 
transport  us  to  the  friendly  Shores  of 
a  foreign  land.  Come,  Henry,  come, 
lay  thine  arm  in  mine,  and  let  us  leave 
this  prison !  " 


She  flung  her  arms  round  his  neck, 
and  drew  him  forward.  He  pressed  her 
closely  to  his  heart  and  whispered : 
"Yes,  come,  come,  my  beloved!  Let 
us  fly !  To  thee  belongs  my  life,  to  thee 
alone !  " 

He  lifted  her  up  in  his  arms,  and  hur- 
ried with  her  to  the  door.  He  opened 
it  with  his  foot,  and  hastened  along  the 
corridor.  But  he  had  only  reached  the 
first  turning  when  he  staggered  back 
with  affright. 

Before  the  door  stood  several  soldiers 
with  shouldered  arms ;  there  stood  also 
the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  and  beside 
him  were  two  attendants  with  lighted 
torches. 

Geraldine  shrieked,  and,  with  eager 
speed,  replaced  the  thick  veil  which  she 
wore,  and  which  had  slipped  from  her 
face  for  the  moment. 

Henry  Howard,  too,  uttered  a  cry, 
but  not  because  of  the  soldiers  and  the 
frustration  of  his  hopes.  He  stared 
with  astonishment  at  the  form  now  so 
closely  veiled  by  his  side.  It  seemed  to 
him  as  if  a  strange  countenance  like 
that  of  a  spectre  had  started  up  beside 
him — as  though  it  were  not  the  beloved 
head  of  the  queen  which  was  resting  on 
his  shoulder.  He  looked  at  this  counte- 
nance as  if  it  were  a  vision,  or  some 
strange  apparition,  but  this  he  well  knew 
— that  it  was  not  the  face  of  his  Geral- 
dine. 

The  lieutenant  of  the  Tower  beckoned 
to  his  attendants,  and  they  proceeded 
with  their  lighted  torches  toward  the 
dungeon  of  the  earl. 

He  then  gave  his  hand  to  Henry  How- 


250 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


ard,  and  conducted  him  back  in  silence 
to  his  prison. 

Henry  Howard  made  no  resistance; 
he  followed  him,  but  his  hand  grasped 
the  arm  of  Geraldine,  and  he  drew  her 
along  with  him  ;  his  eye  rested  upon 
her  with  a  penetrating  expression,  and 
seemed  to  threaten  her. 

They  were  now  once  more  in  the 
chamber  which  they  had  recently  quitted 
with  such  blissful  hopes. 

The  lieutenant  of  the  Tower  made  a 
sign  to  the  attendants  to  leave  the 
apartment,  and  then  turned  with  sol- 
emn gravity  to  the  Earl  of  Surrey. 

"My  lord,"  he  said,  "it  is  by  the 
king's  command  that  I  bring  you  these 
lights.  His  majesty  knew  all  that  has 
happened  here  this  evening.  He  knew 
that  a  plan  had  been  contrived  for  set- 
ting you  free,  and  while  the  authors  of 
this  scheme  thought  to  deceive  the  king, 
they  have  themselves  been  foiled.  The 
king  was  induced  under  a  variety  of  art- 
ful pretexts  to  lend  his  signet-ring  to 
one  of  his  courtiers.  But  his  majesty 
had  already  been  warned,  and  in  fact  he 
was  already  aware,  that  it  was  not  a 
man,  as  had  been  pretended,  but  a  lady, 
who  came,  not  in  order  to  take  leave, 
but  in  order  to  liberate  you  from  your 
prison. — Madam,  the  jailer  whom  you 
intended  to  bribe  was  a  faithful  servant 
of  the  king;  he  betrayed  to-ine  your 
plan,  and  it  was  I  who  ordered  him  to 
let  you  imagine  that  he  favored  your 
scheme.  You  will  not  be  able  to  set  the 
Earl  of  Surrey  free,  but,  if  you  desire  it, 
I  will  myself  get  you  escorted  to  the 
ship  which  is  waiting  for  you  in  the 


river,  ready  to  sail.  No  one,  madam,  will 
hinder  you  from  going  on  board.  Only 
you  must  proceed  alone.  The  Earl  of 
Surrey  cannot  accompany  you! — My 
lord,  the  night  is  already  far  advanced, 
and  you  know  that  it  is  to  be  your  last. 
The  king  has  commanded  me  to  offer 
no  impediment  in  case  this  lady  should 
wish  to  spend  the  night  with  you  in 
your  chamber,  but  she  is  only  at  liberty 
to  do  so  on  condition  that  lights  be 
left  burning  in  the  room.  That  is  the 
express  will  of  the  king,  and  these  are 
his  own  words  :  *  Tell  the  Earl  of  Sur- 
rey that  I  permit  him  to  love  his  Geral- 
dine, but  that  his  eyes  must  be  open,  in 
order  to  see.  In  order  that  he  may  be  able 
to  see,  you  must  give  him  lights,  and  I 
command  him  not  to  extinguish  them  so 
long  as  Geraldine  shall  continue  with 
him.  He  might  otherwise  confound 
her  with  another  lady  ;  for  in  the  dark 
one  cannot  distinguish  even  a  counter- 
feit from  a  queen!'  You  have  there- 
fore to  determine,  ray  lord,  if  this  lady 
is  to  remain  with  you,  or  if  she  is  to  go, 
and  the  light  is  to  be  put  out!  " 

"She  shall  remain  with  me,  and  I 
shall  certainly  require  the  light  as 
well ! "  said  the  Earl  of  Surrey,  and 
his  penetrating  glance  continued  fixed 
upon  the  veiled  form  which  trembled 
at  his  words  as  if  seized  with  an  ague-fit. 

"  Have  you  no  other  wish  to  express, 
my  lord?" 

"  None,  but  that  I  may  be  left  alone 
with  this  person !  " 

The  lieutenant  bowed,  and  left  the 
room. 

They  were  now  once  more  alone,  and 


THE   ILLUSION  DISPELLED. 


251 


stood  face  to  face  in  silence.  The  violent 
throbbings  of  their  hearts  were  audible 
— while  sighs,  laden  with  anguish,  burst 
from  the  lips  of  Geraldine. 

A  fearful— a  terrible  pause  ensued. 
Geraldine  would  have  gladly  given  her 
life,  could  she  have  extinguished  this 
light,  and  have  wrapped  herself  in  im- 
penetrable darkness. 

But  the  Earl  of  Surrey  resolved  to  see. 
He  approached  her  with  a  haughty  and 
angry  glance,  and  as  he  raised  his  arm  in 
a  commanding  attitude,  Geraldine  shud- 
dered and  shrank  back,  while  she  bent 
her  head  in  utter  prostration. 

"Unveil  your  face!"  he  exclaimed, 
with  an  imperious  tone. 

She  remained  motionless.  She  mut- 
tered a  prayer,  and  then  she  raised  her 
clasped  hands  toward  Henry  Howard, 
and  sighed  faintly — 

"Pardon!  pardon!" 

He  stretched  forth  his  hand  and 
seized  the  veil. 

"  Pardon  !  "  she  repeated,  in  tones  of 
deeper  anguish  and  entreaty. 

But  he  was  inexorable.  He  tore  the 
veil  from  her  face,  and  stared  eagerly  at 
her  for  a  moment ;  and  then  with  a  wild 
cry  he  staggered  back  and  stood  aghast, 
while  he  covered  hid  face  with  his 
hands. 

Jane  Douglas,  meanwhile,  dared  not 
breathe  or  stir.  She  was  pale  as  mar- 
ble; her  large,  ardent  eyes,  with  an  un- 
utterable look  of  entreaty,  were  directed 
toward  her  beloved,  who,  overwhelmed 
with  pain,  and  with  his  face  hidden  by 
his  hands,  stood  at  some  distance  away 
from  her.  She  loved  him  more  than  her 


life — more  than  her  hopes  of  eternal 
bliss,  and  yet  it  was  she  herself  who  had 
brought  upon  him  this  hour  of  bitter 
anguish. 

At  length  the  Earl  of  Surrey  withdrew 
his  hands  from  before  his  face,  and  with 
wild  emotion  dashed  away  the  tears 
from  his  eyee. 

As  he  looked  at  her,  Jane  Douglas 
sank  quite  involuntarily  upon  her  knees, 
and  raised  her  hands  beseechingly. 

"  Henry  Howard,"  she  murmured, 
faintly,  "I  am — I  am — your  own  Geral- 
dine !  It  was  I  whom  you  loved,  it  was 
my  letters  that  you  read  with  rapture, 
and  often  have  you  vowed  to  me  that 
you  loved  my  mind  still  more  than  my 
person,  and  often  has  it  filled  my  heart 
with  delight,  when  you  told  me  you 
would  love  me,  however  much  my  face 
might  change  with  time,  however  much 
years  or  sickness  might  alter  my  fea- 
tures. Do  you  remember,  Henry,  how 
I  once  asked  you  whether  you  would 
cease  to  love  me,  if  God  were  suddenly 
to  place  a  mask  over  my  face,  so  that 
my  features  could  no  longer  be  recog- 
nized? You  answered  me,  'I  would 
nevertheless  love  and  worship  you,  for  it 
is  not  your  fair  form  or  your  beauty 
which  causes  me  such  rapture,  but  it  is 
yourself— your  own  sweet  self — your 
innate  excellence — your  essential  being, 
your  mind  and  your  heart,  which  never 
can  change,  which,  bright  and  beaming, 
lie  disclosed  before  me,  like  the  pages  of 
a  sacred  book ! '  That  was  your  answer 
to  me  then,  while  you  swore  to  love  me 
forever.  Henry  Howard,  I  now  remind 
you  of  your  plighted  vows !  I  am  thy 


252 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


Geraldine — it  is  the  same  mind,  the  same 
heart,  only  that  God  has  placed  a  mask 
upon  my  features  I  " 

The  Earl  of  Surrey  had  listened  to  her 
with  strained  attention,  and  with  grow- 
ing amazement. 

"  It  is  she !  Is  it  possible  ? "  he  ex- 
claimed, when  she  had  now  ceased.  "  It 
is  Geraldine ! " 

And  completely  overwhelmed  and 
speechless  with  pain,  he  sank  back  upon 
a  chair. 

Geraldine  flew  to  his  side — she 
crouched  down  at  his  feet — she  seized 
his  hand,  which  hung  down  listlessly, 
and  covered  it  with  kisses;  and  with 
streaming  tears,  oft  interrupted  by  sighs 
and  sobs,  she  related  to  him  the  sad  and 
dismal  story  of  her  love,  and  revealed  to 
him  the  whole  tissue  of  falsehood,  cun- 
ning, and  deceit  which  her  father  had 
thrown  around  them  both.  She  dis- 
closed to  him  the  entire  secrets  of  her 
heart.  She  spoke  to  him  of  her  love,  of 
her  suffering,  of  her  ambition,  and  of  her 
remorse  of  conscience.  She  accused 
herself,  but  pleaded  the  excuse  of  her 
love,  and,  clasping  his  knees,  she  be- 
sought him  with  streaming  eyes  for 
mercy  and  forgiveness. 

He  thrust  her  aside  impetuously,  and 
stood  up,  while  he  recoiled  from  her 
touch.  His  noble  countenance  glowed 
with  anger,  his  eyes  flashed  scornfully, 
his  long,  flowing  hair  shaded  his  lofty 
brow  and  his  features  as  with  a  dark 
veil.  He  looked  majestic  in  his  anger, 
majestic  as  the  archangel  Michael 
crushing  the  dragon  beneath  his  feet. 
And  thus  he  bent  his  head  forward  near 


her,  and  scanned  her  with  looks  of  con- 
tempt and  withering  scorn. 

"  I  pardon  you  ?  "  he  exclaimed — 
"never!  What!.  I  pardon  you — you 
who  have  made  my  whole  life  a  ridicu- 
lous lie,  and  converted  the  tragic  drama 
of  my  love  into  a  wretched  and  pitiful 
farce?  Oh,  Geraldine,  how  great  my 
love  for  you  has  been,  and  yet  you  have 
now  become  for  me  a  loathsome  spectre, 
at  which  my  soul  shudders,  and  which 
I  must  execrate!  You  have  crushed 
my  life,  and  even  my  death  you  have 
robbed  of  its  consecrated  character — for 
now  it  is  no  longer  the  martyrdom  of  my 
love,  but  the  wild  mockery  of  ray  too 
credulous  heart. — Oh,  Geraldine,  how 
glorious  it  would  have  been  to  die  for 
thee;  to  bid  farewell  to  life  with  thy 
name  still  lingering  on  my  lips;  tc 
bless  thee,  to  thank  thee  for  my  happi- 
ness while  the  axe  was  already  raised 
over  my  head !  How  delightful  the 
thought  that  death  did  not  divide  us — 
that  it  was  only  the  way  that  led  to  our 
eternal  union — that  we  should  only  be 
separated  here  for  a  brief  moment,  in 
order  to  meet  once  more  above,  where 
our  bliss  would  endure  without  change, 
without  end! " 

Geraldine  crouched  at  his  feet,  like  a 
bruised  worm,  and  her  groans  of  lamen- 
tation and  her  stifled  sobs  were  the 
heart-rending  accompaniment  of  his 
melancholy  words. 

"  But  that  is  now  all  over  !  "  exclaim- 
ed Henry  Howard,  and  his  countenance, 
which  before  was  convulsed  with  pain 
and  grief,  now  glowed  once  more  with 
anger.  "You  have  poisoned  my  life 


THE   ILLUSION  DISPELLED. 


253 


and  my  dying  hour,  and  for  this  I  shall 
curse  you,  and  my  last  word  will  be  an 
imprecation  upon  the  head  of  Geral- 
dine — the  counterfeit — the  juggler !  " 

"  Oh !  have  mercy !  "  she  groaned. 
u  Kill  me,  Henry,  crush  my  head  under 
your  feet,  only  let  this  torment  cease  !  " 

"  No — no  mercy  !  "  he  cried,  wildly, 
"no  mercy  for  an  impostor,  who  has 
cheated  me  of  my  heart,  and  slunk  into 
my  love  like  a  thief.  Rise,  and  quit  this 
chamber !  Thy  presence  gives  me  hor- 
ror, and  when  I  see  thee  I  feel*that  I 
must  curse  thee.  Yes,  Geraldine,  may 
infamy  and  disgrace  attend  thee !  Ac- 
cursed be  the  kisses  which  I  imprinted 
on  thy  lips — the  tears  of  rapture  which 
I  shed  upon  thy  bosom !  When  I  mount 
the  scaffold  I  shall  curse  thee,  and  my 
last  word  shall  be :  '  May  woe  attend 
the  footsteps  of  Geraldine,  for  she  is  my 
murderess !  ' ' 

He  stood  before  her  with  high  uplifted 
arm,  erect  and  haughty  in  his  anger. 
She  felt  the  scathing  fire  of  his  glance, 
though  she  dared  not  look  up  at  him, 
but  lay  moaning  convulsively  at  his  feet, 
with  her  face  hidden  by  her  veil,  as  if 
she  shuddered  at  her  own  image. 

"  And   let  this  be  my  last  word  to 

ee,  Geraldine,"  said  Henry  Howard, 
with  grave  emphasis :  "  go  hence  under 
the  burden  of  my  imprecations,  and  live, 
if  thou  canst !  " 

She  unveiled  her  head,  and  raised  her 
face  toward  him.  A  derisive  smile 
played  around  her  deadly  pale  lips. 
"Live?"  she  exclaimed.  "Have  we 
not  sworn  to  die  together?  Your  im- 
precations do  not  absolve  me  from  my 


oath,  and  when  you  descend  into  your 
grave,  Jane  Douglas  will  stand  upon  the 
brink  of  it,  with  tears  and  entreaties, 
until  you  have  made  for  her  a  little  space 
beside  you — until  she  has  softened  your 
heart,  and  you  take  her  to  your  bosom 
once  more  in  the  grave  as  your  own  Ger- 
aldine. Oh,  Henry,  in  the  grave  I  shall 
no  longer  wear  the  face  of  Jane  Douglas 
— this  hateful  face  which  I  could  tear  to 
pieces  with  my  nails !  In  the  grave  I 
shall  again  be  Geraldine.  Then  I  shall 
once  more  nestle  near  your  heart,  and 
you  will  again  say  to  me,  '  It  is  not  thy 
face  or  thy  outward  form  that  I  love! 
I  love  thyself,  thy  heart,  thy  mind, 
— for  these  can  never  change  nor  al- 
ter !  ' " 

"  Enough  ! "  he  exclaimed,  hoarsely. 
"Be  silent,  if  you  do  not  wish  to  make 
me  frantic !  Fling  not  my  own  words 
in  my  face ;  they  pollute  me,  for  false- 
hood has  desecrated  and  befouled  them 
with  its  slime.  No,  I  will  not  make 
room  for  you  in  my  grave,  I  will  not 
again  call  you  Geraldine.  You  are  mere- 
ly Jane  Douglas,  whom  I  abhor,  and  I 
invoke  anathemas  upon  your  guilty 
head !  Once  for  all—" 

He  ceased  suddenly,  and  a  slight  shud- 
der ran  through  his  frame. 

Jane  -  Douglas  uttered  a  piercing 
scream,  and  rose  up  from  her  kneeling 
posture. 

Day  had  dawned,  and  from  the  belfry 
of  the  prison  tower  resounded  the  grave 
and  dismal  tones  of  the  death-bell. 

" Hearest  thou,  Jane  Douglas?"  said 
Surrey ;  "  this  knell  summons  me  to 
death,  and  it  is  thou  who  hast  poisoned 


254 


HENRY   VIII.   AND  HIS   COURT. 


this,  my  final  hour.  I  was  happy  when 
I  loved  thee ;  I  die  in  despair,  for  I  hate 
and  despise  thee !  " 

"  No,  no,  you  dare  not  die !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, clinging  to  him  with  passionate 
anguish.  "  You  dare  not  descend  into  the 
grave  with  these  wild  imprecations  on 
your  lips  I  I  cannot  be  your  murderess. 
Oh !  it  is  impossible  that  they  should 
want  to  kill  the  noble,  the  brave,  and 
virtuous  Earl  of  Surrey.  Gracious 
Heaven !  what  have  you  done  to  rouse 
their  anger?  You  are  innocent,  and 
they  know  it — they  cannot  put  you  to 
death,  for  it  would  be  murder.  You 
have  done  nothing  that  they  could  con- 
demn you  for ;  for  it  is  no  crime  to  love 
Jane  Douglas,  and  me — me  alone  you 
have  loved ! " 

"  No,  not  you,"  he  returned,  haughti- 
ly, "I  have  nothing  to  do  with  Lady 
Jane  Douglas.  I  loved  the  queen,  and  I 
believed  she  loved  me  in  return.  That 
is  my  crime !  " 

The  door  opened,  and  the  lieutenant 
of  the  Tower  entered  in  solemn  silence, 
followed  by  a  priest,  with  a  few  attend- 
ant choristers.  At  the  door  appeared 
the  headsman,  who,  in  his  red,  flaming 
attire,  and  with  cairn,  unsympathizing 
visage,  stood  at  the  threshold. 

"  It  is  time !  "  said  the  governor, 
solemnly. 

The  priest  muttered  his  prayers,  and 
the  choristers  swung  their  censers.  The 
death-bell  still  pealed  forth  its  mourn- 
ful dirge,  and  from  the  court-yard  was 
heard  the  murmur  of  the  populace,  who, 
curious  and  bloodthirsty  as  ever,  had 
thronged  hither  with  boisterous  mirth, 


to  see  this  man,  who  was  yesterday  their 
darling,  bleed  on  the  scaffold. 

The  Earl  of  Surrey  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment in  silence.  His  features  worked 
convulsively,  and  a  deadly  pallor  over- 
spread his  countenance. 

It  was  not  the  thought  of  death — but 
that  of  dying,  which  made  him  tremble. 
It  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  already  felt  on 
his  neck  the  cold,  keen  axe  which  that 
terrible  man  held  in  his  hand.  Oh,  to 
die  upon  the  battle-field,  what  happiness 
would  that  have  been!  To  end  one's 
day's  upon  the  scaffold,  what  ignominy 
was  this ! 

"Henry  Howard,  my  son,  art  thon 
prepared  to  die?"  asked  the  priest. 
"  Hast  thou  made  thy  peace  with  thy 
God  ?  Dost  thou  repent  thy  sins,  and 
dost  thou  acknowledge  that  death  is  thy 
just  atonement  and  penalty  ?  Dost  thon 
pardon  thy  enemies,  and  dost  thou  de- 
part hence  in  peace  with  all  men  ?  " 

"lam  ready  to  die,"  replied  Henry 
Howard,  with  a  haughty  smile.  "  The 
other  questions,  father,  I  shall  answer 
before  the  throne  of  the  Almighty !  " 

"  Dost  thou  admit  that  thou  hast  been 
a  wicked  traitor,  and  dost  thou  beg  for 
pardon  of  thy  noble,  wise,  and  just  king, 
for  the  blasphemous  offences  which 
thou  hast  committed  against  his  most 
sacred  majesty?" 

The  Earl  of  Surrey  looked  at  him  for 
a  moment  with  a  steadfast  gaze.  "Do 
you  know  of  what  crime  am  I  accused  ? " 

The  priest  cast  down  his  eyes,  and 
muttered  a  few  unintelligible  words. 

Henry  Howard  turned  aside  from  the 
priest  with  a  haughty  movement  of  his 


THE   ILLUSION  DISPELLED. 


255 


head,  and  addressed  himself  to  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  Tower : 

"Do  you,  sir,  know  what  my  crime 
is?"  he  asked. 

But  the  lieutenant  also  averted  his 
eyes,  and  remained  silent. 

Henry  Howard  smiled.  "  Well,  then, 
I  will  tell  you.  I  have  home,  as  hecame 
the  son  of  my  father,  the  arms  of  our 
house  on  my  shield,  and  over  the  portal 
of  my  mansion ;  and  it  has  happened 
that  the  king  bears  the  same  coat-of- 
arms  that  we  do.  That  is  my  crime, 
and  the  treason  of  which  I  am  accused. 
I  have  also  said  that  the  king  is  deceived 
in  many  of  his  servants,  and  often  sum- 
mons his  favorites  to  high  honors,  which 
they  do  not  deserve.  That  is  my  of- 
fence of  Use-majeste ;  and  that  is  the 
reason  why  I  am  now  about  to  lay  my 
head  upon  the  block.  Be  not  uneasy, 
however,  I  will  myself  increase  my 
crimes,  by  adding  still  one  more  to  the 
number,  so  that  they  may  become  heavy 
enough,  in  order  to  lighten  the  con- 
science of  our  just  and  magnanimous 
king.  I  abandoned  my  heart  to  a 
wretched  and  criminal  love,  and  the 
Geraldine  whose  praises  I  sang  in  many 
an  ode,  and  whom  I  even  celebrated  in 
presence  of  the  king,  was  nothing  more 
than  a  miserable  and  unchaste  coquette." 

Jane  Douglas  uttered  a  loud  cry,  and 
sank  to  the  ground  as  if  struck  by 
lightning. 

"Dost  thou    repent    these  sins,   my 
son  ?  "   asked  the   priest.     u  Dost  thou 
turn  aside  thy  heart  from   this   sinful 
love,  in  order  to  devote  it  to  God  ?  " 
"I  not  only  repent  this  love,  but  I 


loathe  it!  And  now,  good  father,  let 
us  proceed,  for  yon  perceive  his  worship, 
the  governor,  is  becoming  impatient. 
He  is  reflecting  that  the  king  will  find 
no  rest,  until  these  Howards  have  also 
gone  to  their  long  rest.  Ah,  King 
Henry !  King  Henry !  Thou  callest 
thyself  the  mighty  king  of  the  world, 
and  yet  thou  tremblest  before  the  coat- 
of-arms  of  thy  subjects.  Master  gov- 
ernor, should  you  this  day  go  to  the 
king,  greet  him  on  the  part  of  Henry 
Howard,  and  tell  him  I  wish  his  bed 
may  be  as  easy  for  him  as  the  grave 
will  be  for  me.  And  now,  gentlemen, 
it  is  time ;  let  us  proceed !  " 

With  a  calm  and  dignified  air,  and 
with  a  firm  step,  he  turned  toward  the 
door.  At  this  moment  Jane  Douglas 
sprang  suddenly  from  the  floor,  and 
flinging  herself  upon  his  neck,  clung  to 
him  with  all  the  force  of  passion  and 
desperate  grief. 

"  I  wDl  not  leave  you ! "  she  cried, 
breathless  and  deadly  pale.  "  You  must 
not  repulse  me,  for  you  have  sworn  that 
we  would  live  and  die  together." 

He  flung  her  aside  with  a  burst  of 
wild  anger,  and  drew  himself  up  in  a 
menacing  attitude. 

" I  forbid  you  to  follow  me!  "  he  ex- 
claimed, with  an  imperious  tone. 

She  tottered  back  against  the  wall, 
and  looked  at  him,  trembling  and  breath- 
less. 

He  still  held  the  mastery  over  her 
soul.  She  was  still  subject  to  him  in 
love  and  obedience.  She  did  not,  there- 
fore, feel  within  her  the  courage  to 
brave  his  command. 


256 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


She  saw  how  he  left  the  chamber,  and 
how  he  proceeded  along  the  corridor 
with  his  awful  retinue ;  she  heard  how 
the  sound  of  their  footsteps  gradually 
died  away,  and  then  how  the  dull  rum- 
ble of  the  drums  suddenly  resounded  in 
the  court-yard  below. 

Jane  Douglas  fell  upon  her  knees  to 
pray,  but  her  lips  trembled  so  violently 
that  she  could  find  no  words,  for  her 
prayers. 

At  length  the  rumbling  of  the  drums 
ceased,  and  only  the  death-bell  still  con- 
tinued its  mournful  knell.  She  heard  a 
voice  which  spoke  in  firm,  and  forcible 
accents. 

It  was  his  voice — it  was  Henry  How- 
ard who  spoke.  And  now  once  more 
came  the  dull  roll  of  the  drums  to  drown 
the  voice. 

"  He  is  dying — he  is  dying,  and  I  am 
not  beside  him !  "  she  shrieked,  with 
wild  emotion ;  and  springing  up  she 
rushed  out  of  the  room  and  flew  along 
the  corridor  and  down  the  steps  with 
the  speed  of  lightning. 

She  gained  the  court-yard.  There, 
in  the  midst  of  an  immense  crowd  of 
spectators,  stood  the  scaffold — dark,  aw- 
ful, and  hideous.  Another  moment,  and 
Henry  Howard  knelt  down.  She  saw 
the  axe  in  the  hand  of  the  executioner. 
She  saw  him  raise  it  to  give  the  fatal 
blow. 

She  was  no  longer  a  woman,  but  a 
tigress.  The  blood  forsook  her  cheeks. 
Her  nostrils  expanded,  and  her  eyes 
darted  flames. 

She  drew  forth  the  dagger  which  she 
had  concealed  in  her  bosom,  and  cleared 


a  path  for  herself  through  the  terrified 
and  timidly-yielding  throng. 

With  a  bound  she  sprang  up  the  steps 
of  the  scaffold.  And  now  she  stood  be- 
side him — close  beside  the  kneeling 
form. 

A  gleam  flashed  through  the  air. 
She  heard  a  peculiar  whizzing  sound, 
and  then  a  dull,  heavy  blow.  A  reek- 
ing stream  of  blood  foamed  aloft,  and 
bathed  Jane  Douglas  in  its  crimson  tide. 

"  I  come*  Henry,  I  come !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, with  a  wild  cry  of  exultation. 
"  In  death  I  shall  be  thine !  " 

And  again  gleamed  through  the  air 
the  flashing  steel.  It  was  the  dagger 
which  Jane  Douglas  bad  buried  in  her 
own  heart. 

The  blow  was  well  aimed!  Not  a 
sound — not  a  groan  escaped  her  lips. 
With  a  triumphant  smile  she  sank  down 
beside  the  mutilated  corpse  of  her  be- 
loved ;  and  as  her  life-blood  ebbed  apace 
and  mingled  with  that  of  the  murdered 
earl,  she  addressed  the  amazed  and  ter- 
rified headsman,  and  said  with  her  wan- 
ing breath:  "Let  me  share  his  grave! 
Henry  Howard,  in  death,  as  in  life,  I 
am  thine  to  the  last !  " 


CHAPTER    X. 

NEW    INTRIGUES. 

HENRY  HOWARD  was  dead.  And  now 
one  would  have  supposed  that  the  king 
might  rest  contented,  and  that  sleep 
would  no  longer  forsake  his  eyelids,  but 


NEW  INTRIGUES. 


257 


Henry  Howard,  his  great  rival,  had 
closed  his  eyes  forever ;  Henry  Howard 
was  no  longer  in  the  way  to  rob  him 
of  his  crown — to  fill  the  world  with  the 
renown  of  his  achievements,  and  with 
his  poetical  fame  to  obscure  the  genius 
of  the  king. 

But  the  king  was  still,  as  ever,  discon- 
tented— still,  as  ever,  sleep  forsook  his 
couch. 

This  meant,  that  his  work  as  yet  was 
but  half  accomplished  :  Henry  Howard's 
father— the  Duke  of  Norfolk — was  still 
alive ;  this  meant  that  the  king  was 
evermore  constrained  to  think  of  his 
powerful  rival,  and  these  thoughts  chased 
sleep  away  from  his  pillow ;  his  soul 
was  troubled  because  of  the  Howards : 
thus  it  was  that  his  bodily  pains  were  so 
grievous  and  terrible. 

When  the  Duke  of  Norfolk  should 
have  closed  his  eyes  in  death,  then 
would  the  king  be  able  once  more  to 
close  his  eyes  in  refreshing  sleep.  But  the 
tribunal  of  the  House  of  Lords — which 
was  the  only  one  before  which  the  duke 
could  be  tried — was  so  slow  and  so  cir- 
cumspect in  its  mode  of  procedure :  it 
was  by  no  means  so  prompt  and  so  com- 
plnisant  as  the  lower  House  of  Parlia- 
ment, which  had  so  speedily  condemned 
Henry  Howard.  Why  did  the  old  How- 
ard possess  such  a  privilege  ? — why,  in- 
stead of  being  a  duke  and  a  peer  of  the 
realm,  was  he  not  a  simple  earl,  like  his 
son,  in  order  that  the  obedient  Commons 
might  pass  their  sentence  upon  him 
without  delay  ? 

This  was  the  gnawing  pain — the  can- 
ker-worm of  the  king,  which  made  him 
17 


frantic  with  rage,  which  irritated  his 
temper,  inflamed  his  bloocl,  and  thereby 
increased  his  bodily  sufferings. 

He  raved  and  stormed  with  impa- 
tience ;  his  wild  objurgations  resounded 
through  the  halls  and  corridors  of  the 
palace,  and  made  everybody  tremble; 
for  no  one  was  certain  that  it  might  not 
be  himself  who  should  be  the  next  vic- 
tim of  the  monarch's  rage, — no  one 
could  feel  assured  that  the  ever-increas- 
ing thirst  for  blood  of  the  king  would 
not  condemn  himself  at  any  moment. 

From  the  seclusion  of  his  sick-chamber 
the  king  watched,  with  the  most  jealous 
scrutiny,  over  his  royal  dignity,  and  the 
slightest  violation  thereof  was  sufficient 
to  arouse  his  anger  and  his  sanguinary 
instincts.  Woe  betide  those  who  now 
dared  to  maintain  that  the  pope  was  the 
head  of  the  Church  ?  Woe  to  those  also 
who  were  bold  enough  to  assert  that 
God  alone  was  the  head  and  ruler  of 
the  Church,  and  who  refused  to  honor 
the  king  as  the  Church's  supreme  and 
sovereign  lord !  Both  parties  alike  were 
traitors  and  malefactors  ;  and  according- 
ly he  sent  Catholics  as  well  as  Protest- 
ants to  the  stake  or  to  the  block,  how- 
ever near  they  stood  to  his  own  person, 
and  however  cordially  he  was  otherwise 
attached  to  them. 

Whoever,  therefore,  could  avoid  it, 
kept  far  away  from  the  dreaded  person 
of  the  king,  and  whoever  was  condemn- 
ed by  his  duties  to  approach  the  royal 
presence  trembled  for  his  life,  and  com- 
mended his  soul  to  God. 

There  were  still  but  four  persons  who 
did  not  fear  the  king,  and  who  appeared 


258 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


to  be  secure  from  his  crushing  anger. 
These  were  the  queen,  who  attended 
him  with  constant  diligence  ;  John  Hey- 
wood,  who,  with  unwearied  zeal,  sup- 
ported Katharine  in  her  onerous  task, 
and  who  sometimes  succeeded  in  winning 
'  a  smile  from  the  king;  besides  whom 
were  Gardiner,  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
and  Lord  Douglas. 

Lady  Jane  Douglas  was  dead;  the 
king  had  therefore  pardoned  her  father, 
and  had  once  more  shown  himself  gra- 
cious and  friendly  toward  the  deeply-af- 
flicted earl.  Besides  this,  it  was  a  source 
of  gratification  and  relief  to  the  suffering 
monarch  to  have  some  one  near  him 
whose  troubles  were  still  greater  than 
his  own ;  it  consoled  him  to  think  that 
there  could  be  still  more  terrible  pains 
than  those  bodily  pains  of  which  he  was 
himself  the  victim.  These  pains  Lord 
Douglas  was  condemned  to  endure,  and 
the  king  perceived,  with  a  sort  of  mali- 
cious joy,  how  his  hair  was  daily  getting 
gray,  and  his  features  becoming  more 
attenuated  and  care-worn.  Douglas 
was  a  younger  man  than  the  king,  and 
yet  how  old  and  grizzled  he  looked  be- 
side his  blooming  and  rubicund  master  ! 

Could  the  king  have  glanced  into  the 
secret  recesses  of  his  heart,  he  would 
have  had  less  compassion  for  the  cares 
and  anxieties  of  Lord  Douglas. 

He  looked  upon  him  only  as  an  affec- 
tionate father  who  mourned  the  death 
of  his  only  child.  He  little  suspected 
that  it  was  less  the  father  who  was  pain- 
fully smitten  for  the  fate  of  his  daughter, 
than  the  ambitious  man,  the  fanatical 
papist,  the  zealous  disciple  of  Loyola — 


who  saw  with  dismay  the  failure  of  all  his 
scheme?,  and  saw,  too,  the  moment  ap- 
proaching when  he  should  be  stripped 
of  all  the  power  and  authority  which  he 
enjoyed  in  the  secret  league  of  the  So- 
ciety of  Jesus. 

For  him,  therefore,  it  was  less  the 
daughter  than  he  lamented,  than  the 
seventh  wife  of  the  Icing ;  and  that  it 
was  Katharine,  and  not  his  daughter, 
Jane  Douglas,  who  wore  the  crown,  was 
the  unpardonable  offence  for  which  he 
could  never  forgive  the  queen. 

Upon  the  queen  accordingly  he  wished 
to  avenge  his  daughter's  death ;  he 
wished  to  punish  Katharine  for  his  frus- 
trated hopes,  and  for  his  plans,  which 
she  had  foiled. 

But  Lord  Douglas  dared  not  himself 
renew  the  attempt  to  prejudice  the  mind 
of  the  king  against  his  wife.  Henry  had 
forbidden  him  to  do  so  under  penalty  of 
his  anger;  he  had  warned  him  in  threat- 
ening words  against  such  an  enterprise, 
and  Lord  Douglas  knew  perfectly  well 
that  Henry  was  inflexible  in  his  resolves 
when  the  question  at  issue  was  that 
of  fulfilling  a  threatened  punishment. 

Still,  what  Douglas  himself  dared  not 
attempt,  might  be  attempted  by  Gardiner 
— Gardiner,  who,  thanks  to  the  humors 
and  caprices  induced  by  the  king's  ail- 
ments, had  again,  for  some  days  past,  so 
unconditionally  enjoyed  the  favor  of  the 
king,  that  the  worthy  Archbishop  Cran- 
mer  had  been  ordered  to  quit  the  court, 
and  to  withdraw  to  his  episcopal  palace 
at  Lambeth. 

Katharine  had  seen  him  depart  with 
anxious  foreboding,  for  Cranmer  had  al- 


NEW   INTRIGUES. 


259 


ways  been  her  firm  supporter  and  friend.  ' 
ID  the  midst  of  this  storm-lashed  and 
passion-swayed  court-life,  his  mild,  se- 
rene countenance  had  ever  appeared  to 
Her  like  a  star  of  peace,  and  his  gentle 
words  and  elevated  sentiments  had  ever 
been  like  a  soothing  balsam  to  her  poor, 
trembling  heart. 

She  felt  that  by  his  departure  she  lost 
her  most  generous  advocate — her  most 
powerful  succor ;  and  that  those  by 
whom  she  was  now  surrounded  were 
enemies  and  opponents. 

True,  she  still  had  John  Hey  wood,  the 
faithful  friend,  the  indefatigable  servant; 
but  since  Gardiner  had  begun  to  exer- 
cise his  sinister  influence  over  the  king's 
mind,  John  Heywood  scarcely  dared  to 
approach  Henry's  presence.  True,  she 
still  had  her  beloved  Thomas  Seymour  ; 
but  she  felt  and  knew  that  she  was  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  lurking  spies,  and 
that  now  nothing  more  wus  wanting 
than  an  audience  with  Thomas  Seymour 
— a  few  words  of  friendly  greeting — nay, 
a  look  of  mutual  understanding  and  love, 
in  order  to  send  both  him  and  herself  to 
the  scaffold. 

She  trembled — not  for  herself — but 
fc  r  her  lover ;  this  made  her  prudent 
and  thoughtful ;  it  gave  her  the  courage 
always  to  maintain  a  grave  and  seri- 
ous demeanor  toward  Thomas  Seymour, 
never  to  meet  him  elsewhere  than  in  the 
circle  of  her  courtiers — never  to  smile 
upon  him — never  to  extend  to  him  her 
hand. 

Still  she  was  certain  of  her  future. 
She  knew  that  a  day  would  come  when 
the  death  of  the  king  would  liberate  her 


from  her  wearisome  splendor,  and  from 
the  oppressiveness  of  her  royal  diadem  : 
when  she  should  be  free — free  to  bestow 
her  hand  upon  the  man  whom  alone 
upon  earth  she  loved,  and  to  become  his 
wife. 

She  yearned  for  this  day,  as  the  cap- 
tive yearns  for  the  hour  of  his  liberation ; 
but  like  him,  too,  she  knew  that  a  pre- 
mature attempt  to  escape  from  her  dun- 
geon would  only  bring  with  it  destruc- 
tion and  death,  and  not  freedom. 

She  must,  therefore,  be  patient,  and 
wait;  she  must  renounce  all  personal 
intercourse  with  her  beloved ;  and  even 
his  letters  she  could  only  obtain  rarely, 
through  John  Heywood,  who  was  forced 
to  observe  the  greatest  caution.  Often, 
indeed,  had  the  faithful  Heywood  im- 
plored his  mistress  to  give  up  this  corre- 
spondence ;  often  had  he  besought  her, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  to  renounce  this 
love,  which  might  one  day  be  her  ruin 
and  her  death.  Kathar.  e  laughed  at 
his  gloomy  forebodings,  to  \\  liich  she  op- 
posed the  daring  enthusiasm  of  her  love, 
and  the  calm  courage  which  springs  from 
certainty  of  the  future. 

She  did  not  wish  to  die — for  love 
and  happiness  awaited  her ;  this  happi- 
ness and  this  love  she  was  unwilling  to 
renounce — why,  otherwise,  should  she 
have  been  compelled  to  endure  this  life 
of  danger,  of  self-denial,  of  enmity,  and 
of  hatred  ? 

On  the  contrary,  she  wished  to  live, 
in  order  one  day  to  be  happy.  This 
thought  made  her  brave  and  resolute; 
it  gave  her  the  courage  to  confront  her 
enemies  with  a  serene  and  smiling 


230 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


countenance ;  it  enabled  her  to  sit  with 
sparkling  eyes  and  rosy  cLeeks  at  the 
side  of  her  severe  and  capricious  hns- 
band,  and,  with  lively  wit  and  inex- 
haustible gayety,  to  chase  away  rancor 
from  his  spirit  and  moroseness  from 
his  brow. 

But,  just  because  she  was  able  to  do 
this,  she  was  a  dangerous  opponent  for 
Douglas  and  for  Gardiner, — exactly  for 
this  reason  it  must  be  their  chief  en- 
deavor to  ruin  this  young  and  beauti- 
ful woman,  who  dared  to  defy  them, 
and  to  weaken  their  influence  with  the 
ting. 

It  was  only  when  they  should  have 
succeeded  in  effectually  darkening  the 
king's  mind,  when  they  should  once 
more  have  completely  filled  him  with 
fanatical  zeal — then  only  could  they 
hope  to  attain  their  end,  which  end  was, 
to  lead  the  king  back,  as  a  contrite 
and  penitent  son,  to  the  only  true  and 
sanctifying  Mother  Church,  and  once 
more  to  make  of  this  vain,  haughty,  and 
ambitious  prince,  a  submissive  and  obe- 
dient son  of  the  pope! 

The  king  must  therefore  be  brought  to 
renounce  this  vain  and  blasphemous  ar- 
rogance— that  of  wishing  to  be  himself 
the  head  of  his  own  Church ;  he  must 
be  induced  to  turn  aside  from  the  spirit 
of  innovation  and  heresy,  and  to  become 
once  more  a  believing  and  devout  Catho- 
lic. 

But  in  order  that  this  object  may  be 
attained,  Katharine  must  needs  be  re- 
moved from  him ;  he  must  no  longer 
look  upon  her  smiling  and  beautiful 
countenance,  and  no  longer  suffer  him- 


self to  be  entertained  by  her  acute  intel- 
lect and  her  lively  conversation. 

"We  shall  not  be  able  to  accomplish 
the  queen's  downfall,"  said  Lord  Doug- 
las to  Gardiner,  as  they  both  happened 
to  be  tete-a-tete  in  the  king's  anteroom, 
while  the  lively  chatter  of  Katharine 
and  the  cheerful  laughter  of  the  king 
reached  them  from  the  adjoining  room 
in  which  the  royal  pair  were  sitting. 
"  No,  no,  Gardiner,  she  is  too  powerful 
and  too  cunning.  The  king  loves  her 
very  much,  and  she  affords  him  such  an 
agreeable  and  refreshing  delassement !  " 

"  Tt  is  just  for  that  reason  that  we 
must  withdraw  her  from  him,"  said 
Gardiner,  with  a  sullen  frown.  "His 
heart  must  be  diverted  from  this  earthly 
love,  and  it  will  only  be  when  we  have 
destroyed  this  passion  in  his  breast7 
that  this  fierce  and  haughty  man  will  re- 
turn contrite  and  humble  to  us  and  to 
God." 

u  But  we  shall  not  be  able  to  destroy 
it,  my  friend  ;  it  is  such  an  ardent,  and 
withal  such  a  selfish,  love !  " 

u  So  much  greater  will  be  the  triumph, 
if  our  pious  admonitions  should  succeed 
in  touching  his  heart,  Douglas,  It  is 
true  he  will  suffer  a  good  deal,  if  com- 
pelled to  give  up  this  woman.  But  suf- 
fering is  just  what  he  needs,  in  order  to 
become  contrite  and  penitent.  His  mind 
must  be  darkened  first  of  all,  in  order 
that  we  may  be  able  to  illumine  it  with 
the  ]ight  of  faith  ;  he  must  first  be  ren- 
dered isolated  and  helpless,  in  order  to 
lead  him  back  to  holy  communion 
with  the  Church,  and  in  order  to  make 
him  once  more  accessible  to  the  consola- 


NEW   INTRIGUES. 


261 


tions  which  the  one  fold  of  the  trne 
faith  has  to  offer." 

u  Alas! "  sighed  Douglas,  "  I  fear  this 
will  he  a  fruitless  effort.  The  king  is  so 
vain  of  his  self-grounded  high  -  priest- 
hood !  " 

u  But  he  is  such  a  weak  mortal— such 
a  great  sinner,  too,"  said  Gardiner,  with 
a  sarcastic  smile.  u  The  prospect  of 
death  and  of  the  judgment  to  come 
makes  him  tremble;  and  the  Holy 
Church  can  give  him  absolution  for  his 
sins,  and  comfort  his  dying  hour  with 
her  holy  sacraments.  He  is  a  very 
wicked  sinner,  and  sometimes  feels  re- 
morse of  conscience.  It  is  this  which 
will  bring  him  back  again  into  the  bosom 
of  the  Catholic  Church." 

"  Ay,  but  when  will  that  happen?  The 
king  is  ailing,  and  any  day  may  end  his 
career.  Woe  betide  us,  should  he  die 
before  he  has  placed  the  power  in  our 
hands,  and  made  us  the  executors  of  his 
will!  Woe  betide  us  should  the  queen 
be  appointed  regent,  and  the  king  have 
chosen  the  Seymours  to  be  her  ministers! 
Oh,  my  wise  and  pious  father,  the  work 
which  you  propose  must  be  done  speedi- 
ly, or  it  will  have  to  remain  forever  un- 
accomplished !  " 

"  It  shall  be  done  this  very  day,"  said 
Gardiner,  solemnly;  and  bending  for- 
ward more  closely  to  the  earl's  ear,  he 
continued:  "  we  have  lulled  the  queen 
into  confidence  and  self-reliance,  and 
upon  that  rock  she  shall  founder  this 
very  day.  She  relies  so  firmly  upon  her 
power  over  the  king's  mind,  that  she 
often  finds  the  courage  even  to  contra- 
dict him,  and  to  oppose  her  own  will 


to  his.  That  shall,  this  very  day,  be 
her  destruction!  For,  mark  you  well, 
Douglas,  the  king  is  now  once  more  like 
a  tiger  that  has  fasted  for  a  long  time. 
He  thirsts  for  btood !  The  queen  has  an 
aversion  to  human  blood,  and  is  horri- 
fied when  she  hears  of  executions.  We 
must  therefore  take  care  that  these  op- 
posing tendencies  shall  come  in  contact 
and  clash." 

"  Oh,  I  understand  now,"  whispered 
Douglas,  "and  I  bow  with  reverence 
before  your  lordship's  wisdom.  They  are 
both  in  a  condition  to  let  themselves  be 
conquered  with  their  own  weapons." 

**  I  will  present  a  welcome  prey  to  his 
blood-craving  appetite,  and  will  give  her 
silly  compassion  an  opportunity  of  strug- 
gling with  the  king  for  his  booty.  Don't 
you  think,  my  dear  lord,  it  will  be  a 
most  amusing  and  delightful  comedy  to 
see  the  tiger  and  the  dove  engaged  in 
single  combat?  And  I  assure  you  the 
tiger  thirsts  terribly  for  blood.  Blood  is 
the  only  balsam  which  he  applies  to  his 
aching  limbs,  and  by  which  alone  he 
imagines  that  he  can  restore  peace  to  his 
troubled  conscience,  and  gain  courage  to 
face  the  terrors  of  death.  Why,  have  we 
not  often  told  him  that  by  every  fresh 
execution  of  a  heretic,  one  of  his  great 
sins  would  be  blotted  out,  and  that  the 
blood  of  the  Calvinists  would  serve  to 
\\-ji-h  away  some  of  the  evil  deeds  entered 
against  him  on  the  register  of  guilt  ?  lie 
is  most  anxious  to  be  able  to  present 
himself  pure  and  spotless  before  the 
judgment-seat  of  God,  and  therefore  he 
stands  in  need  of  much  heretical  blood. 
Hut  hark !  there  strikes  the  hour  which 


262 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


summons  me  to  the  royal  closet.  The 
queen  lias  now  had  enough  of  laughter 
and  silly  prate.  We  will  now  endeavor 
to  banish  smiles  from  her  lips  for  all  fu- 
ture time  to  come.  She  is  a  heretic  and 
it  will  he  a  pious  work,  well-pleasing  to 
the  Almighty,  if  we  hurl  her  headlong 
to  destruction." 

"  May  God  he  with  your  lordship,  and 
in  His  mercy  assist  you  to  accomplish 
this  noble  work  1 " 

"  God  will  be  with  us,  my  son,  for  it 
is  for  Him  that  we  are  laboring;  it  is* 
for  His  honor  and  glory  that  we  are 
sending  these  misguided  heretics  to  the 
stake,  and  that  we  cause  the  air  to 
resound  with  the  cries  of  agony  of  these 
racked  and  tortured  recreants !  That  is  a 
music  which  is  well-pleasing  to  God,  and 
the  angels  in  heaven  will  triumph  and 
rejoice  if  also  this  heretical  and  unbe- 
lieving Queen  Katharine  should  be  com- 
pelled to  chant  the  music  of  these  dam- 
nable apostates. — I  now  go  forth  to  this 
work  of  love  and  divine  vengeance. 
Pray  for  me,  my  son,  that  it  may  suc- 
ceed. Remain  here  in  the  anteroom,  and 
watch  for  my  summons:  perhaps  we 
may  require  you.  Pray  for  us  and  with 
us.  Yes,  we  owe  this  heretical  queen 
retaliation  for  Maria  Askew.  To-day  we 
shall  discharge  the  debt.  She  accused  us 
then  ;  to-day  we  shall  accuse  her,  and  on 
our  side  is  God,  and  the  host  of  His 
saints  and  angels !  " 

And  the  pious  and  Heaven-favored 
priest  crossed  himself  devoutly,  and 
with  his  head  meekly  bent,  and  with  a 
gentle  smile  upon  his  thin,  bloodless  lips, 
he  left  the  anteroom  with  measured  step, 


in  order  to  present  himself  in  the  king's 
apartment. 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE    KING   AND   THE  PEIEST. 


"  GOD  bless  and  preserve  your  majes- 
ty!" said  Gardiner,  as  he  approached 
the  king,  who  at  this  moment  was  en- 
gaged with  the  queen  at  a  game  of 
chess,  and  with  knitted  brows  and  com- 
pressed lips  sat  contemplating  the  state 
of  the  game,  which  was  not  favorable 
to  himself,  and  threatened  him  with  a 
speedy  check-mate. 

It  was  unwise  of  the  queen  not  to 
allow  the  king  to  win,  for  his  supersti- 
tious and  jealous  disposition  saw  in  a 
chess-match  gained  against  him  a  direct 
attack  upon  his  own  person ;  and  who- 
ever ventured  to  beat  him  at  chess,  al- 
ways appeared  to  Henry  to  be  a  species 
of  traitor,  who  threatened  the  kingdom, 
and  was  even  daring  enough  to  stretch 
forth  his  hand  to  seize  the  crown. 

The  queen  knew  this  full  well,  but — 
Gardiner  was  right — she  was  over-con- 
fident. She  believed  somewhat  in  her 
power  over  the  king;  she  imagined  he 
would  make  an  exception  in  her  favor. 
And  then  it  was  so  tedious  always  to 
be  obliged  to  be  the  conquered  party  in 
this  game, — to  let  the  king  always  ap- 
pear as  the  triumphant  victor,  and  to 
lavish  upon  his  skill  praises  which  he 
did  not  merit!  Katharine  wished  for 
once  to  reserve  to  herself  the  triumph 


THE   KING  AND   THE   PRIEST. 


263 


of  having  vanquished  her  husband.  She 
disputed  with  him  piece  by  piece,  she 
roused  Mm  by  constantly  renewed  at- 
tacks, and  exasperated  him  with  the 
prospect  of  approaching  danger. 

The  king,  who  at  the  outset  had  been 
cheerful,  and  had  laughed  when  Katha- 
rine took  away  one  of  his  principal 
pieces,  now  laughed  no  longer.  It  was 
no  longer  a  mere  game — it  was  a  serious 
contest,  and  the  king  struggled  with 
passionate  zeal  for  the  victory  over  his 
spouse. 

Katharine  did  not  once  perceive  the 
clouds  which  were  gathering  thickly 
upon  the  king's  brow.  Her  looks  were 
fixed  upon  the  chess-board  exclusively, 
and  breathless  with  expectation,  and 
glowing  with  ardor,  she  was  considering 
the  move  which  she  was  about  to  make. 

But  Gardiner  had  clearly  perceived 
the  secret  anger  of  the  king,  and  he  saw 
that  the  conjuncture  was  favorable  to 
himself. 

With  a  light,  stealthy  pace  he  drew 
near  to  the  king's  chair,  and,  standing 
behind  it,  overlooked  the  game. 

"  In  four  moves  more  you  are  check- 
mated and  conquered,  my  husband," 
said  the  queen,  with  a  cheerful  laugh,  as 
she  made  her  move. 

The  king's  knitted  brows  now  as- 
sumed a  darker  scowl,  and  h'e  pressed 
his  lips  violently  together. 

"  It  is  quite  true,  your  majesty,"  said 
Gardiner,  "you  must  soon  succumb! 
Danger  threatens  you  from  the  queen  !  " 

Henry,  with  a  convulsed  movement, 
turned  his  face  round  toward  Gardiner 
with  an  inquiring  expression.  In  his 


irritated  humor  against  the  queen,  this 
ambiguous  expression  of  the  crafty 
priest  came  home  to  him  with  double 
force. 

Gardiner  was  a  skilful  hunter ;  already 
the  first  arrow  which  he  had  aimed  had 
hit  the  mark.  But  even  Katharine  had 
heard  the  hissing  of  the  dart.  The  slow, 
equivocal  words  of  Gardiner  had  roused 
her  up  from  her  oblivious  mood,  and  as 
she  now  looked  at  the  flushed  and  ex- 
asperated countenance  of  the  king,  she 
perceived  at  once  her  imprudence. 

But  it  was  too  late  to  make  amends. 
The  check-mate  of  the  king  was  inevi- 
table, and  Henry  had  already  observed 
it  himself 

44 It  is  well!"  he  said,  with  pettish 
vehemence.  "  You  have  won,  Katha- 
rine, and,  by  the  Holy  Mother  of  God, 
you  may  boast  of  the  rare  luck  of  hav- 
ing conquered  King  Henry  of  England !  " 

"  Oh !  I  shall  not  boast  of  it,  my 
dear  husband,"  she  rejoined  with  a  smile. 
u  You  have  only  played  with  me  as  the 
lion  plays  with  a  little  dog,  which  he 
will  not  trample  under  foot,  only  because 
he  has  compassion  for  him,  and  would 
bo  sorry  to  hurt  the  poor  little  animal. 
Lion,  I  thank  thee!  Thou  hast  been 
very  magnanimous  to-day!  Thou  hast 
suffered  me  to  win  !  " 

The  king's  features  became  somewhat 
more  serene.  Gardiner  perceived  it, 
and  resolved  to  hinder  Katharine  from 
following  up  her  advantage  any  further. 

"  Magnanimity  is  a  sublime,  but  a 
very  dangerous  virtue,"  said  the  bishop, 
gravely,  "and  kings  especially  should 
not  practise  it;  for  magnanimity  pardons 


264 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


crime,  and  kings  exist  not  to  pardon, 
but  to  punish." 

"  How  so,  my  lord  ?  "  said  Katharine. 
"  Surely  the  noblest  prerogative  of  royal- 
ty consists  in  the  power  to  pardon,  and 
as  kings  are  the  representatives  of  God 
upon  earth,  they  are  bound  to  exercise 
pardon  and  mercy  like  God  Himself." 

Again  the  king's  brow  became  cloud- 
ed, and  he  fixed  his  eyes  with  a  sinister 
expression  on  the  chess-board. 

Gardiner  chuckled  inwardly,  but  made 
no  reply.  He  drew  forth  a  roll  of  paper 
from  his  cassock  and  handed  it  to  the 
king. 

"  Sire,"  he  said,  "  I  hope  you  do  not 
share  the  views  of  the  queen !  Other- 
wise it  would  fare  badly  with  the  peace 
and  welfare  of  the  realm.  Mankind  can- 
not be  governed  by  mercy — they  must 
be  ruled  by  fear.  Your  majesty  holds 
the  sword  of  justice  in  your  hands,  and 
if  you  are  slow  to  let  it  fall  upon  the 
heads  of  evil-doers,  they  will  soon  wrest 
it  from  your  grasp,  and  then  you  will  be 
powerless." 

"  Those  are  very  cruel  words,  my 
lord !  "  exclaimed  Katharine,  who  suf- 
fered herself  to  be  hurried  away  by  her 
generous  disposition,  and  suspected  that 
Gardiner  had  come  in  order  to  urge 
the  king  to  some  severe  and  sanguinary 
decree. 

She  wished  to  obviate  his  designs — 
she  wished  to  move  the  king  to  clemen- 
cy. But  the  moment  was  unfavorable 
to  her. 

The  king,  whom  she  had  only  just  now 
irritated  by  her  victory  over  him,  felt 
liis  ire  increase  by  the  contradiction 


which  she  had  offered  the  prelate — for 
this  contradiction  was  equally  directed 
against  himself.  The  king  was  by  no 
means  disposed  to  exercise  mercy,  and  it 
was  therefore  a  very  malicious  thought 
of  the  queen  to  praise  mercy  as  the  high- 
est privilege  of  princes. 

With  a  silent  nod  he  took  the  papers 
from  the  hands  of  Gardiner,  and  opened 
them.  "Ah,"  he  exclaimed,  turning 
over  the  pages,  "  you  are  quite  right,  my 
lord  bishop  ;  mankind  do  not  deserve  to 
have  mercy  shown  them — for  they  are 
always  ready  to  abuse  it.  It  seems  that 
because  for  some  weeks  past  we  have 
caused  no  scaffolds  to  be  erected  and  no 
fires  kindled,  they  imagine  we  are 
asleep,  and  they  begin  their  profane  and 
traitorous  designs  with  redoubled  vio- 
lence, and  raise  their  sinful  hands  in 
mockery  against  us.  I  see  here  a  charge 
against  an  individual  who  has  dared  to 
say  there  is  no  king  by  the  grace  of  God, 
and  that  the  king  is  a  miserable,  sinful 
man,  like  the  meanest  beggar.  Well,  we 
will  show  this  person  justice ;  we  will 
not  be  to  him  a  king  by  the  grace  of 
God — but  a  king  by  God's  anger !  We 
will  let  him  see  that  we  are  not  yet  quite 
like  the  lowest  beggar,  for  we  possess 
at  least  wood  enough  to  make  a  fire  for 
his  use !  " 

And  when  the  king  had  indulged  in 
this  pleasantry,  he  burst  into  a  loud  fit 
of  laughter,  in  which  Gardiner  willingly 
joined. 

"  I  see  also  a  charge  against  two 
others  who  deny  the  king's  supremacy," 
continued  Henry,  still  glancing  through 
the  papers  in  his  hand.  ''They  accuse 


THE  KING  AND   THE  PRIEST. 


265 


me  of  blasphemy,  for  daring  to  call  my- 
self the  representative  of  God — the  visi- 
ble head  of  the  holy  Church ;  they  say 
that  God  alone  is  head  of  the  Church, 
and  that  Luther  and  Calvin  are  more 
worthy  representatives  of  the  Almighty 
than  the  king  is.  Verily,  we  should 
hold  our  kingdom  and  the  dignity  which 
God  has  bestowed  upon  us  in  slight  es- 
teem, did  we  not  punish  these  trans- 
gressors, who,  in  our  own  sacred  per- 
son, dare  to  blaspheme  God  Himself !  " 

The  king  had  resumed  the  examina- 
tion of  the  papers,  when  suddenly  his 
countenance  became  overspread  with  a 
dark-crimson  hue,  and  a  fierce  impreca- 
tion burst  from  his  lips. 

He  flung  the  papers  on  the  table  and 
struck  them  with  his  clinched  fist. — 
'k  What !  "  he  exclaimed,  with  vehe- 
mence, "  have  all  the  devils  in  hell  been 
let  loose,  or  has  the  spirit  of  rebellion 
reached  such  a  point  in  our  kingdom 
that  we  are  no  longer  able  to  suppress 
it  ?  Some  fanatical  heretic  has  warned 
my  subjects  in  the  public  streets  against 
reading  the  holy  book,  which,  like  a 
well-meaning  and  careful  father  and 
teacher,  I  have  myself  written  for  my 
people,  and  have  given  them  in  order 
that  they  may  derive  edification  and 
wisdom  therefrom.  And  the  same  male- 
factor has  shown  this  book  to  the  people 
jmd  said  to  them:  'Ye  call  this  the 
king's  book,  and  ye  are  right,  for  it  is  a 
vile  and  mischievous  book — the  work  of 
hell— and  the  devil  himself  has  been 
sponsor  to  the  king ! '  Ah,  I  see  we 
must  once  more  show  this  traitorous 
and  pitiful  rabble  our  serious  and  angry 


countenance,  in  order  that  they  may  re- 
cover faith  in  their  sovereign.  The  peo- 
ple are  nothing  but  a  contemptible  and 
scurvy  mob !  They  are  humble  and 
dutiful  only  when  made  to  tremble  and 
feel  the  lash.  It  is  only  when  we  tram- 
ple them  in  the  dust  that  they  recognize 
us  as  their  master ;  and  when  we  send 
them  to  the  rack  and  to  the  stake,  then 
only  do  they  respect  our  majesty  and 
power.  The  kingdom  must,  therefore, 
be  burnt  into  their  bodies,  that  they 
may  feel  it  as  a  truth.  And  by  the  God 
that  made  us,  we  will  do  so !  Here, 
give  me  a  pen  at  once,  that  I  may  sign 
and  confirm  these  decrees ;  and  let  it  be 
well  dipped  in  the  ink,  my  lord  bishop, 
for  there  are  eight  sentences,  and  I 
must  write  my  name  eight  times.  Ah ! 
'tis  a  hard  and  wearisome  business  to  be 
a  king,  and  not  a  day  passes  without  la- 
bor and  trouble." 

"  Our  Lord  God  will  reward  your 
majesty  for  this  labor !  "  said  Gardiner, 
solemnly,  as  he  handed  the  pen  to  the 
king. 

Henry  was  preparing  to  write,  when 
Katharine  laid  her  hand  upon  his,  and 
restrained  him. 

"Oh,  do  not  sign,"  she  exclaimed, 
with  tearful  accents.  "I  entreat  you, 
by  all  that  you  hold  sacred,  not  to  suffer 
yourself  to  be  hurried  away  by  momen- 
tary anger — let  not  your  outraged  feel- 
ings gain  the  sway  over  your  princely 
character.  Let  the  sun  go  down  and 
rise  again  before  you  give  way  to  ven- 
geance, and  do  not  decide  against  these 
unhappy  persons  until  you  are  quite 
calm  and  composed.  For,  consider  it 


266 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


well,  my  lord  and  husband,  there  are  here 
eight  death-warrants  to  be  signed,  and 
with  a  few  strokes  of  the  pen  you  would 
snatch  eight  human  beings  from  life, 
from  their  families,  and  from  the  world. 
You  would  take  the  son  from  the 
mother,  the  husband  from  the  wife, 
and  the  father  from  his  infant  children. 
Consider  it  well,  Henry ;  the  responsi- 
bility which  God  has  placed  in  your 
hands  is  a  heavy  one,  and  it  is  presump- 
tuous in  man  not  to  approach  this  duty 
with  grave  and  sacred  composure,  and 
with  unruffled  equanimity !  " 

"  Well,  by  God's  Mother !  "  cried  the 
king,  striking  the  table  violently,  "I 
believe  you  would  dare  to  defend  these 
traitors  and  blasphemers  against  their 
king.  You  cannot,  therefore,  have 
heard  who  the  accused  are  ?  " 

"I  have  heard  it,"  replied  Katharine, 
with  increased  ardor.  "I  have  heard 
it,  and  I  still  repeat,  do  not  sign  these 
death-warrants,  my  noble  husband.  It 
is  true,  these  poor  people  have  com- 
mitted grave  faults,  but  they  erred 
humanly.  It  is  not  wise,  my  good  lord, 
to  wish  to  revenge  so  severely  a  slight 
offence  against  your  majesty.  A  king 
should  be  far  superior  to  calumny  and 
slander;  like  the  sun  he  should  give 
light  to  the  just  and  the  unjus£,  none 
of  whom  have  power  to  dim  its  rays  or 
to  obscure  its  splendor.  Punish  crim- 
inals and  evil-doers,  as  they  deserve,  but 
be  generous  and  magnanimous  toward 
those  who  have  offended  against  your 
person ! " 

"  The  king  is  not  a  person  whom  one 
may  offend  I  "  cried  Gardiner.  "  The 


king  is  a  sublime  idea — a  mighty,  world- 
embracing  thought.  Whoever  offends 
the  king  has  not  offended  a  person,  but 
the  kingdom  established  by  God,  the 
universal  conception  which  holds  the 
whole  world  together." 

"Whoever  offends  the  king,  offends 
God!  "  exclaimed  the  king,  "and  who- 
ever attacks  our  throne  or  slanders  our- 
self,  shall  suffer  the  fate  of  the  atheist 
and  the  parricide — his  hand  shall  be  cut 
off  and  his  tongue  be  torn  out  from  the 
roots ! " 

"Well,  be  it  so:  cut  off  their  hands, 
and  deprive  them  of  the  power  of 
speech,  but  do  not  put  them  to  death  !  " 
cried  Katharine,  with  impassioned  ear- 
nestness. "At  least  examine  if  their 
crime  be  as  great  as  people  wish  to  make 
you  believe.  Oh,  it  is  now  such  an  easy 
matter  to  be  accused  as  a  traitor  or 
an  atheist ;  merely  an  incautious  word 
— a  doubt — not  as  to  God,  but  as  to  His 
priests,  or  as  to  this  Church  which  your 
majesty  has  set  up,  whose  proud  and 
peculiar  edifice  is  so  new  and  so  strange 
to  many,  that  they  ask  themselves, 
doubtingly,  if  this  be  a  church  of  God, 
or  only  a  royal  palace,  and  that  they 
wander  and  lose  themselves  in  its  intri- 
cate windings,  without  ever  being  able 
to  find  the  outlet !  " 

"If  they  only  held  the  faith,"  said 
Gardiner,  gravely,  "they  would  not  lose 
themselves;  and  if  God  were  on  their 
side,  the  outlet  would  not  be  blocked  up 
against  them." 

"  Oh,  I  am  well  aware  of  that — but 
you  are  always  inexorable,"  cried  Kath- 
arine, angrily.  "  But  permit  me  to  say 


THE  KING  AND  THE   PRIEST. 


267 


that  it  is  not  you  that  I  am  begging  for 
mercy,  but  the  king ;  and  I  must  also  tell 
you,  my  lord  bishop,  that  it  would  be 
better  for  you,  and  more  worthy  of  a 
minister  of  Christian  love,  were  you  to 
join  your  entreaties  to  mine,  than  to 
attempt  to  urge  the  noble  heart  of  the 
king  to  severity.  You  are  a  priest,  and 
you  must  have  discovered  from  your  own 
experience  that  there  are  many  ways 
that  lead  us  to  God,  and  that  we  are  one 
and  all  liable  to  error  in  seeking  for  the 
right  path." 

"  How  so  ? "  exclaimed  the  king,  rising 
from  his  seat,  and  looking  at  Katharine 
with  a  searching  and  angry  glance. 
"  Do  you  mean  that  heretics,  too,  may 
possibly  find  the  way  that  leads  to 
God?" 

"I  mean,"  she  replied,  with  fervent 
earnestness,  "  that  Jesus  Christ  Himself 
was  called  a  blasphemer,  and  was  put  to 
death.  I  mean  that  Stephen  was  stoned 
to  death  by  Paul,  and  that,  nevertheless, 
the  Christian  world  at  large  now  honors 
them  both  as  saints,  and  prays  to  both 
alike.  I  mean  that  it  is  not  because  Soc- 
rates lived  before  Christ,  and  could  not, 
therefore,  be  one  of  His  followers,  that  he 
will  be  condemned ;  and  that  Horace  and 
Julius  Ca>sar,  Phidias  and  Plato,  must  be 
considered  noble  spirits,  although  they 
were  only  pagans.  Nay,  my  lord  and 
husband,  I  mean  that  lenity  must  be 
used  in  matters  of  religion,  and  that  be- 
lief should  not  be  forcibly  thrust  upon 
mankind  as  a  burden,  but  should  be  grant- 
ed as  a  favor  by  means  of  conviction." 

"  Then  you  do  not  consider  that  these 
eight  malefactors  are  worthy  of  death  ?  " 


asked  Henry,  with  affected  calmness  and 
labored  composure. 

"  No,  my  husband ;  I  regard  them  as 
poor,  erring  mortals,  who  are  seeking  the 
right  path,  who  would  willingly  walk  in 
it,  and  who,  therefore,  inquire  doubting- 
ly  on  all  sides,  '  Is  this  the  right  way  ? ' " 

"  Enough ! "  said  the  king,  as  he 
beckoned  Gardiner  toward  him,  and, 
leaning  upon  his  arm,  advanced  a  few 
paces  toward  the  door.  "  Let  us  speak 
no  more  of  these  things;  they  are  too 
serious  to  be  decided  in  the  presence  of 
our  young  and  lively  queen.  The  hearts 
of  women  are  always  inclined  to  len- 
ity and  forgiveness.  You  should  have 
thought  of  this,  Gardiner,  and  not  have 
mentioned  such  matters  before  the 
queen." 

"Sire,  it  was  the  hour  which  your 
majesty  had  fixed  for  determining  these 
questions." 

"Oh,  it  was?"  cried  the  king,  with 
vivacity.  "  Then  we  did  wrong  in  de- 
voting the  time  to  other  concerns  than 
to  our  serious  friends ;  and  you  will  ex- 
cuse me,  madam,  if  I  request  you  to 
leave  me  alone  with  the  bishop.  Affairs 
of  state  cannot  be  postponed." 

He  presented  his  hand  to  Katharine, 
and  conducted  her  with  evident  labor, 
but  still  with  a  smiling  countenance,  to 
the  door.  As  she  still  continued  stand- 
ing, and  looked  at  him  with  an  inquiring 
and  smiling  gaze,  while  she  seemed  on 
the  point  of  again  addressing  him,  he 
waved  his  hand  impatiently,  and  knit 
his  brows. 

"It  is  late,"  he  said,  hastily;  "and 
we  have  state  matters  to  attend  to." 


268 


HENRY   VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


Katharine  dared  not  reply — she  bowed 
silently,  and  left  the  room.  The  king 
looked  after  her  with  an  air  of  deep 
resentment  and  displeasure,  and  then 
turned  round  to  Gardiner. 

"  Well,"  he  inquired,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  the  queen  now  ?  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Gardiner,  slowly,  and 
with  such  deliberate  emphasis,  that 
every  word  had  time  to  penetrate  like 
a  dagger  into  the  heart  of  the  king — 
"I  think  she  does  not  regard  as  crim- 
inals those  who  call  the  holy  book  which 
you  have  written  a  work  of  hell ;  and 
that  she  has  a  great  deal  of  sympathy 
for  these  heretics  who  refuse  to  ac- 
knowledge your  supremacy." 

"  Nay,  by  God's  Mother,  I  believe  she 
would  hold  the  same  language  herself, 
and  join  my  enemies,  if  she  were  not  my 
wife !  "  cried  the  king,  whose  anger  was 
fermenting  inwardly,  and  ready  to  burst 
forth  like  lava  from  the  volcano's 
mouth. 

"  She  does  so  already,  although  she  is 
your  wife,  sire !  She  imagines  that  her 
high  position  gives  her  impunity  and 
shelter  against  your  just  anger,  and 
therefore  she  does  what  no  one  else 
would  dare  to  do,  and  says  what  in  the 
mouth  of  another  would  be  the  blackest 
treason !  " 

"  What  does  she  do,  and  what  does 
she  say?"  exclaimed  the  king.  "Do 
not  hesitate,  my  lord,  to  tell  me.  It  is 
but  right  that  I  should  know  the  acts 
and  sentiments  of  my  queen." 

"  Sire,  she  is  not  only  the  secret  pro- 
tectress of  heretics  and  reformers,  but 
is  an  adherent  of  their  creed.  She 


hearkens  to  their  false  doctrines  with 
eager  zeal,  and  suffers  the  damnable 
teachers  of  these  sectaries  to  enter  her 
apartments,  in  order  that  she  may  listen 
to  their  fanatical  discourses  and  their 
hellish  inspirations.  She  speaks  of  these 
heretics  as  of  true  believers  and  Chris- 
tians, and  calls  Luther  the  light  which 
God  has  sent  into  the  world,  to  enlight- 
en the  darkness  and  error  of  the  Church 
with  the  rays  of  truth  and  love— the 
same  Luther,  sire,  who  dared  to  address 
to  you  such  scandalous  and  defamato- 
ry letters,  and  to  deride  your  princely 
wisdom  with  scoffing  contumely." 

"  In  a  word,  she  is  a  heretic !  "  cried 
the  king. 

The  volcano  was  ripe  for  an  eruption, 
and  the  boiling  lava  must  needs  at  length 
find  an  outlet. 

"Yes,  she  is  a  heretic  1  "  repeated  the 
king,  "  and  we  have  solemnly  sworn  to 
root  out  these  unbelievers  from  our 
kingdom." 

"  She  knows  very  well  that  she  is  safe 
from  your  anger,"  said  Gardiner,  with 
a  sly  shrug.  "  She  presumes  on  the 
ground  that  she  is  the  queen,  and  that 
in  the  heart  of  her  noble  husband  love 
is  more  powerful  than  faith." 

*"  No  one  shall  imagine  that  he  is  safe 
from  my  anger,  and  no  one  shall  pre- 
sume upon  the  safety  which  my  love  may 
assure  him.  She  is  a  proud,  insolent, 
and  daring  woman ! "  cried  the  king, 
whose  looks  were  again  directed  toward 
the  chess-board,  and  whose  animosity 
was  heightened  by  the  remembrance  of 
the  lost  game.  "  She  is  bold  enough  to 
defy  us,  and  to  have  a  will  of  her  own, 


THE  KING   AND   THE   PRIEST. 


269 


contrary  to  ours.  Yes,  I  will  show  the 
whole  world  that  Henry  of  England  is 
ever  the  undaunted  and  incorruptible 
ruler.  I  will  give  heretics  a  proof  that 
I  in  reality  am  the  protector  and  de- 
fender of  the  faith  and  religion  of  my 
realm,  and  that  no  one  stands  on  such  a 
pinnacle  that,  my  anger  may  not  reach 
him,  and  that  the  sword  of  justice  may 
not  fall  upon  his  neck.  She  is  a  here- 
tic, and  we  have  sworn  to  destroy  the 
whole  brood  with  fire  and  sword.  We 
shall  keep  our  vow." 

"And  the  Lord  will  bless  you  with 
His  blessing ;  He  will  place  a  crown  of 
glory  on  your  brow !  and  the  Church 
will  sing  your  praises,  as  her  most  glo- 
rious shepherd — her  most  illustrious 
chief." 

"So  be  it ! "  said  the  king,  as  with 
youthful  activity  he  strode  across  the 
room,  and,  proceeding  to  his  escritoire, 
wrote  a  few  lines  with  a  rapid  and 
nimble  hand. 

Gardiner  continued  standing  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  with  folded  hands, 
and  his  lips  murmured  a  half-audible 
prayer,  while  his  large,  naming  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  king  with  a  curious 
and  searching  glance. 

"Here,  my  lord,"  said  the  king, 
"take  this  paper,  and  make  the  neces- 
sary arrangements.  It  is  a  warrant  of 
committal,  and  before  night  sets  in  the 
queen  shall  be  in  the  Tower !  " 

"  Of  a  truth  the  Lord  works  mightily 
within  you !  "  exclaimed  Gardiner,  as 
he  took  the  paper ;  "  the  sacred  hosts  of 
heaven  are  singing  hallelujahs,  while 
they  look  down  with  rapture  upon  the 


hero  who  conquered  his  own  heart  in 
order  to  serve  God  and  the  Church !  " 

"Take  it,  and  make  haste!  "  returned 
the  king,  impatiently.  "  Within  a  few 
hours  all  must  be  done.  Give  this  paper 
to  my  Lord  Douglas,  and  let  him  go  with 
it  to  the  lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  in  order 
that  he  may  himself  proceed  hither,  at 
once,  with  his  satellites.  For  still  this 
lady  is  a  queen— and  as  a  queen  she  shall 
be  treated,  though  a  culprit.  The  lieu- 
tenant himself  must  therefore  conduct 
her  to  the  Tower.  Hasten,  then,  I  say ! 
But,  hark !  keep  all  this  matter  a  secret, 
and  let  no  one  be  aware  of  it  until  the 
decisive  moment  has  arrived.  Other- 
wise, her  friends  might  assail  me  to  en- 
treat pardon  for  this  frail,  sinful  woman, 
and  I  abhor  all  whining  and  whimpering. 
Keep  silence,  therefore,  for  I  am  tired, 
and  require  some  rest  and  sleep!  I 
have,  as  you  say,  just  accomplished  a 
work  which  is  well-pleasing  to  God,  and 
perhaps,  as  a  reward,  the  Almighty  will 
send  me  the  refreshing  and  reviving 
slumbers  for  which  I  have  so  long 
sought  in  vain." 

And  the  king  drew  aside  the  curtains 
of  his  couch,  and,  assisted  by  Gardiner, 
laid  himself  back  on  the  luxurious  pil- 
lows. 

Gardiner  closed  the  curtains  again, 
and  thrust  the  fateful  paper  into  his 
pocket.  Even  in  his  hands  it  did  not 
seem  to  him  to  be  safe  enough.  But 
why  ?  Might  not  some  inquisitive  eye 
rest  upon  it  and  guess  its  contents? 
Might  not  some  daring  and  unabashed 
friend  of  the  queen  snatch  this  paper 
from  him,  and  take  it  to  her  and  give 


270 


DENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


her  warning?  No,  it  was  not  safe 
enough  in  his  hands,  he  must  perforce 
hide  it  in  the  'pocket  of  his  gown. 
There  no  one  could  find  it — nobody  dis- 
cover its  purport. 

There  accordingly  he  concealed  it. 
Within  the  folds  of  his  robe  it  was  se- 
cure ;  and  after  he  had  thus  hidden  the 
precious  document,  he  left  the  chamber 
with  rapid  steps,  in  order  to  announce 
to  Lord  Douglas  the  grand  result  of  his 
labors. 

Not  once  did  he  look  behind  hirn. 
Had  he  done  so,  he  would  have  sprung 
back  upon  his  prey,  like  a  tiger,  into 
the  room ;  as  hawk  upon  the  dove,  he 
would  have  pounced  upon  that  shred  of 
paper  which  lay  upon  the  floor,  just  on 
the  spot  where  Gardiner  stood  when  he 
thrust  the  warrant  which  the  king  had 
given  him  into  his  pocket. 

Alas !  even  the  robe  of  a  priest  is  not 
always  thick  enough  to  veil  a  dangerous 
secret,  and  even  the  pocket  of  a  bishop 
may  sometimes  have  a  hole  in  it. 

Gardiner  went  away  with  the  proud 
consciousness  of  having  a  warrant  of 
committal  in  his  pocket,  while  the  fatal 
scroll  lay  upon  the  floor  in  the  middle 
of  the  royal  chamber. 

Who,  then,  will  come  to  pick  it  up  ? 
Who  is  to  be  the  sharer  of  this  dan- 
gerous secret — to  whom  will  this  mute 
document  announce  the  fearful  intelli- 
gence that  the  queen  has  fallen  into 
disgrace,  and  that  she  is  to  be  hurried 
*  away  as  a  prisoner  to  the  Tower  this 
very  day  ? 

All  is  still  and  lonely  in  the  royal 
chamber.  Nothing  moves — not  even 


the  heavy  damask  hangings  around  the 
royal  couch. 

The  king  sleeps.  Even  excitement 
and  anger  sometimes  act  like  a  soothing 
lullaby !  They  have  so  wearied  and  fa- 
tigued the  king,  that  he  has  positively 
fallen  asleep  from  sheer  exhaustion. 

Indeed,  the  king  should  have  been 
grateful  to  his  spouse;  for  chagrin  at 
the  lost  chess-match,  and  anger  at  Katha- 
rine's heretical  sentiments,  have  so  worn 
him  out,  that  he  has  fallen  into  a  pro- 
found slumber. 

Still  the  warrant  lies  upon  the  floor. 
And  now  the  door  opens  gently  and 
cautiously.  Who  is  it  that  dares  be  so 
bold  as  to  enter  the  king's  chamber  un- 
summoned  and  unannounced  ? 

There  are  only  three  persons  who 
might  hazard  such  a  step :  the  queen, 
the  Princess  Elizabeth,  and  John  Hey- 
wood,  the  court  fool.  But  which  of 
these  three  is  it  ? 

It  is  the  Princess  Elizabeth,  who 
comes  to  salute  her  royal  father.  Every 
forenoon  about  this  hour  she  had  found 
the  king  in  his  chamber.  Where,  then, 
was  he  to-day  ?  As  she  glanced  round 
the  room  with  surprised  and  inquiring 
looks,  her  eye  was  at  length  arrested  by 
the  paper  which  lay  upon  the  floor.  She 
took  it  up,  and  began  to  examine  it  with 
girlish  curiosity.  What  could  it  con- 
tain? Certainly  no  secret,  otherwise  it 
would  not  be  left  lying  at  random  on 
the  floor. 

She  opened  and  read  it.  Her  beauti- 
ful features  assumed  an  expression  oi 
astonishment  and  horror,  and  a  slight 
exclamation  burst  from  her  lips.  But 


THE   KING   AND    THE   PRIEST. 


271 


Elizabeth  had  a  firm  and  resolute  spirit, 
and  this  unlooked-for  surprise  did  not 
dim  her  bright  glance  nor  obscure 
her  penetrating  mind.  The  queen  was 
in  danger.  The  queen  was  about  to  be 
imprisoned.  This  was  what  the  terrible 
document  shouted  into  her  ear ;  but  she 
durst  not  suffer  herself  to  be  unnerved 
by  the  intelligence — she  must  act — she 
must  warn  the  queen. 

She  hid  the  paper  in  her  bosom,  and 
vanished  from  the  chamber  with  the 
fleetness  of  lightning. 

"With  flashing  eyes  and  her  cheeks 
aglow  from  exerted  speed,  Elizabeth  at 
length  reached  the  queen.  With  pas- 
sionate impetuosity  she  clasped  her  in 
her  arms  and  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"Katharine,  my  queen  and  my 
mother,"  she  exclaimed,  "we  have 
sworn  to  stand  by  and  protect  one 
another  if  danger  should  threaten  us. 
Fate  has  been  favorable  to  me,  for 
it  has  already  placed  in  my  hands  the 
means  of  fulfilling  my  vow  this  very 
day.  Take  this  paper  and  read  it!  It 
is  a  warrant  for  your  committal,  drawn 
up  by  the  king's  own  hand.  When  you 
have  read  it,  let  us  consider  what  is 
to  be  done  in  order  to  avert  the  dan- 
ger from  you." 

"  A  warrant  of  committal !  "  cried  the 
queen,  shuddering  as  she  perused  it.  "A 
warrant — that  means  a  sentence  of  death  ! 
For  to  have  once  crossed  the  fatal  thresh- 
old of  the  Tower  means  to  abandon  all 
hope  of  ever  leaving  it  again  ;  and  when 
a  queen  is  imprisoned  and  accused,  she  is 
already  condemned.  Gracious  Heaven, 
princess,  do  you  understand  that — to  be 


obliged  to  die,  while  the  life-blood  still 
glows  with  youthful  ardor  in  our  veins  ? 
To  be  compelled  to  walk  forth  to  our 
doom,  while  the  future  still  attracts  us 
with  a  thousand  hopes  and  wishes? 
My  God,  to  be  thus  hurried  away  into  a 
loathsome  dungeon,  and  thence  perforce 
to  descend  into  the  dark  grave,  while 
the  world  greets  us  with  its  alluring 
voices,  and  while  the  spring  of  life  has 
scarcely  wakened  in  our  heart !  " 

Streams  of  tears  burst  from  her  eyes, 
and  she  hid  her  face  in  her  trembling 
hands. 

"Pray do  not  weep,  my  queen,"  said 
Elizabeth — herself  trembling,  and  deathly 
pale.  "  Do  not  weep,  but  consider  what 
is  to  be  done !  Each  moment  the  dan- 
ger increases — each  moment  brings  the 
evil  still  nearer! " 

"  True,"  said  Katharine,  as  she  raised 
her  head  and  dashed  away  the  tears 
from  her  eyes.  "  Yes,  very  true — this  is 
not  a  time  for  weeping  and  wailing. 
Death  is  stealing  hither  upon  me — while 
I,  on  my  part,  am  unwilling  to  die.  As 
yet  I  have  life,  and  while  a  breath  re- 
mains, I  will  struggle  against  death. 
God  will  succor  me — God  will  be  my 
helper,  and  will  enable  me  to  overcome 
this  danger  also,  as  I  have  already  done 
on  many  former  occasions." 

"But  what  do  you  propose  to  do? 
How  will  you  set  about  it?  You  don't 
know  who  your  accusers  are,  nor  what 
the  charge  is  which  they  lay  against 
you." 

"But  I  suspect  it,"  said  the  queen, 
thoughtfully.  "When  I  call  to  mind 
the  angry  countenance  of  the  king,  and 


272 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


the  knavish  smile  of  that  malicious 
priest,  I  believe  I  know  what  the  accusa- 
tions are.  Yes,  all  is  quite  clear  to  me 
now.  Ah,  it  is  the  heretic  whom  they 
would  condemn  to  death.  Very  well, 
my  lord  bishop,  I  am  still  alive,  and  we 
will  see  which  of  us  both  will  gain  the 
victory ! " 

With  a  resolute  step  and  with  glowing 
cheeks  she  hastened  to  the  door.  Eliza- 
beth held  her  back.  "  Where  are  you 
going  to  ?  "  she  inquired,  astonished. 

"To  the  king!  "  she  replied,  with  a 
proud  smile.  "He  has  heard  the 
bishop,  and  he  shall  also  hear  me.  The 
king's  mind  is  fickle  and  easily  changed 
about.  We  will  now  see  which  cunning 
is  the  stronger — that  of  the  priest,  or 
that  of  the  woman !  Elizabeth,  pray  for 
me ;  I  am  going  to  the  king,  and  you  will 
see  me  either  free  and  happy,  or  you  will 
never  again  behold  me." 

She  imprinted  an  affectionate  kiss 
upon  the  lips  of  Elizabeth,  and  left  the 
room  with  hurried  steps. 


OHAPTEK   X. 

THE   GAME   OF   CHESS. 

FOE  many  days  the  king  had  not  been 
so  well — for  a  long  time  he  had  not  en- 
joyed such  a  refreshing  sleep  as  on  this 
day  that  he  had  signed  the  warrant  of 
committal  against  the  queen  This,  how- 
ever, did  not  engage  his  thoughts ;  sleep 
had  obliterated  all  remembrance  of  it 
from  his  memory.  Like  some  trivial 


anecdote,  heard  for  the  moment  with  a 
passing  smile,  the  whole  occurrence  had 
vanished  from  his  mind.  A  transient 
interlude — nothing  more. 

The  king  had  slept  well,  and  nothing 
further  troubled  him.  He  extended  and 
stretched  himself  upon  his  couch,  and 
thought  with  delight  how  pleasant  it 
would  be  if  he  could  every  day  enjoy 
such  sweet  and  refreshing  repose,  and  if 
no  evil  dreams  and  no  fears  would  scare 
away  slumber  from  his  eyes.  He  felt 
himself  quite  cheerful  and  composed,  and 
to  any  one  who  had  now  come  to  beg 
a  favor  of  the  king  he  would  have 
granted  it,  in  the  first  raptures  which 
this  reviving  sleep  had  caused  him.  But 
he  was  alone  —  no  one  was  with  him, 
and  he  must  therefore  suppress  his  gra- 
cious desires.  But,  no ;  seemed  it  not  as 
if  something  moved  and  breathed  be- 
hind the  curtain  ? 

The  king  drew  aside  the  hangings,  and 
a  serene  smile  came  over  his  features, 
for  beside  his  couch  sat  the  queen.  She 
sat  there,  with  her  flushed  cheeks  c^nd 
glowing  eyes,  and  greeted  him  with  a 
smile  of  good-humored  banter  and  droll- 
ery. 

"Ah,  Kate,  you  there!"  cried  the 
king.  "  Now  I  understand  how  I  came 
to  have  such  a  sound  and  refreshing 
sleep.  You  stood  beside  me,  like  my 
good  angel,  and  banished  away  all  pains 
and  evil  dreams  from  iny  pillow." 

And  so  saying,  he  stretched  forth  his 
band,  and  tenderly  caressed  her  velvet 
cheek — never  thinking  for  a  moment 
that  he  had  already,  in  a  certain  manner, 
devoted  this  lovely  head  to  the  scaffold, 


THE  GAME   OF  CHESS. 


273 


and  that  within  a  few  hours  more  those 
dazzling  eyes  should  dwell  upon  nothing 
but  the  darkness  of  the  dungeon.  Sleep, 
as  before  said,  had  lulled  all  remem- 
brance of  this  matter,  and  as  yet  his 
malicious  instincts  had  not  again  been 
excited.  To  sign  a  warrant  of  commit- 
tal, or  a  death-warrant,  was  such  an 
ordinary  and  e very-day  occurrence  with 
the  king,  that  it  marked  no  epoch  in  his 
life,  and  neither  burdened  him  with  re- 
morse of  conscience,  nor  made  his  heart 
.shudder  or  tremble. 

But  Katharine  thought  of  all  this, 
and  as  the  king's  hand  caressed  her 
cheek,  she  felt  as  if  death  were  touch- 
ing her,  as  though  it  already  claimed  her 
for  its  own.  Meanwhile  she  overcame 
this  momentary  horror,  and  had  the 
courage  to  preserve  her  presence  of 
mind,  and  her  cheerful  and  composed 
mien. 

"  You  call  me  your  good  angel,  my 
lord  and  husband,"  she  replied,  smiling ; 
44  but  I  am  nothing  more  than  your  little 
household  sprite,  that  flits  and  buzzes 
around  you,  and  that  makes  you  laugh 
sometimes  with  his  harmless  banter." 

"  And  i'faith,  a  lively  little  sprite  you 
are,  Kate,"  cried  the  king,  who  con- 
tinued with  real  pleasure  to  contemplate 
the  fresh  and  animated  countenance  of 
his  spouse. 

"  Then  I  will  remain  with  you  to-day 
as  your  sprite,  and  give  you  no  more 
rest  upon  your  couch,"  said  Katharine, 
as  she  playfully  attempted  to  lift  him 
up.  "  Do  you  know,  my  husband,  what 
I  came  hither  for?  A  butterfly  came 
fluttering  to  my  window ;  only  think,  a 
18 


butterfly  in  winter — that  signifies,  that 
on  this  occasion  winter  is  spring,  and 
that  the  clerk  of  the  weather  has  con- 
verted January  into  March.  The  but- 
terfly has  summoned  us  forth,  my  king ; 
and  just  look  there,  the  sun  beckons  to 
us  through  the  window,  and  tells  us  we 
should  come  out,  as  it  has  already  dried 
up  the  walks  below  in  the  garden,  and 
made  a  little  grass  to  spring  up  by  the 
wayside.  Your  wheeled  arm-chair,  too, 
is  already  at  hand,  and  your  little  sprite, 
as  you  see,  has  already  decked  and 
garnished  herself  with  furs  against 
the  winter,  which,  indeed,  seems  passed 
by." 

"  Well,  then,  come  and  help  me,  my 
dearest  little  sprite,  that  I  may  get  up 
and  obey  the  commands  of  the  butter- 
fly, of  the  sun,  and  of  ray  lovely  and 
charming  wife!  "  cried  the  king,  as  he 
put  his  arm  round  Katharine's  neck,  and 
raised  himself  up  from  his  couch. 

She  displayed  the  utmost  activity  and 
sport  in  attending  to  the  king's  wants ; 
she  laid  her  arm  affectionately  on  his 
shoulder,  and  supported  him;  she  ad- 
justed the  gold  chain  which  had  become 
displaced,  over  his  doublet ;  and  play- 
fully folded  and  arranged  the  lace  ruffles 
which  he  wore  round  his  neck. 

"Do  you  wish  your  attendants  to 
come,  my  husband?  The  master  of 
the  ceremonies,  who  is  doubtless  wait- 
ing your  commands  in  the  anteroom,  or 
my  lord  the  bishop,  who  looked  so 
scowlingly  at  me  this  morning?  But, 
how  now,  my  good  lord,  does  your 
countenance  too  wear  a  gloomy  look? 
or  has  your  little  sprite  perchance  again 


274 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


said  something  discordant  to  your 
mind  ? " 

"  By  no  means,"  said  the  king,  gloom- 
ily ;  but  he  avoided  encountering  her 
smiling  glance,  and  averted  his  gaze 
from  her  radiant  and  charming  counte- 
nance. 

The  king's  evil  thoughts  were  once 
more  awakened  within  him,  and  he  now 
remembered  the  warrant  which  he  had 
given  to  Gardiner.  He  remembered  and 
repented  it.  For  his  youthful  Queen 
was  so  amiable  and  beautiful;  she  so 
well  understood  how  to  chase  away 
sorrow  from  his  brow,  and  sadness  from 
his  heart,  by  her  playful  humor  and 
lively  wit !  She  was  such  an  agreeable 
and  entertaining  companion,  such  a 
ready  means  of  banishing  weariness  and 
ennui. 

It  was  not  for  her  sake,  but  for  his 
own,  that  he  regretted  what  he  had 
done ;  it  was  his  selfishness  alone  which 
made  him  repent  having  issued  this 
warrant  for  the  queen's  incarceration. 
Katharine  observed  him,  and  her  glance, 
rendered  more  penetrating  by  her  in- 
ward fears,  read  the  thoughts  upon  his 
brow,  and  fully  understood  the  sigh 
which  involuntarily  escaped  him.  She 
again  took  courage, — she  might  yet  suc- 
ceed in  smiling  away  the  sword  sus- 
pended over  her  head. 

"  Come,  my  lord  and  husband,"  she 
said,  in  a  cheerful  tone,  "  come,  the  sun 
is  nodding  at  us,  and  the  trees  are  shak- 
ing their  heads  with  displeasure  at  our 
long  delay." 

"  Yes,  come,  Kate,"  said  the  king,  re- 
covering himself  with  an  effort  from  his 


thoughtful  mood ;  u  come,  we  will  go  out 
into  the  free  air  of  Heaven.  Perhaps 
we  shall  then  be  nearer  to  our  Maker, 
who  may  inspire  us  with  good  thoughts 
and  salutary  resolutions.  Come,  along, 
Kate !  " 

The  queen  presented  her  arm,  and 
supported  by  it,  the  king  advanced  a 
few  steps.  Suddenly,  however,  Katha- 
rine stood  still,  and  as  the  king  looked 
at  her  inquiringly,  she  blushed  and 
averted  her  gaze. 

"  Well  ?  "  asked  the  king,  "  why  do 
you  linger  ?  " 

"  Sire,  I  was  just  reflecting  upon  your 
words,  and  upon  what  you  have  said  of 
the  sun  and  of  salutary  resolutions;  it 
has  touched  my  heart  and  troubled  my 
conscience.  You  are  right,  my  hus- 
band, God  is  then  abroad,  and  I  dare 
not  venture  to  look  at  the  sun,  which  is 
the  eye  of  God,  until  I  have  confessed 
and  received  absolution.  Sire,  I  am  a 
great  sinner,  and  my  conscience  gives 
me  no  rest.  Will  you  be  my  father-con- 
fessor and  listen  to  me  ?  " 

The  king  sighed.  Alas  !  thought  he, 
she  is  herself  rushing  to  destruction, 
and  by  her  own  avowal  of  her  guilt,  she 
will  render  it  impossible  for  me  to  hold 
her  innocent ! 

"  Speak !  "  he  replied,  in  a  loud  tone. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  she  whispered, 
with  downcast  looks,  "  in  the  first  place, 
I  must  acknowledge  that  I  have  this 
day  deceived  you,  my  lord  and  king; 
vanity  and  sinful  arrogance  tempted  me 
to  do  so,  and  childish  petulance  made 
me  accomplish  what  vanity  had  sug- 
gested. But  I  repent,  my  king,  I  repent 


THE   GAME   OF   CHESS. 


it  from  my  inmost  soul,  and  I  protest  to 
you,  my  husband,  nay,  I  affirm  by  all 
that  I  hold  sacred,  that  this  is  the  first 
and  only  time  that  I  ever  deceived  you  ; 
and  never  will  I  again  attempt,  to  do  so, 
for  it  is  a  fearful  and  dismal  feeling  to 
stand  before  you  with  a  conscience  sen- 
sible of  guilt," 

"And  wherein  did  you  deceive  us, 
Kate  ? "  asked  the  king,  and  his  voice 
trembled. 

Katharine  drew  forth  from  her  dress 
a  small  role  of  paper,  and  bending  with 
humility,  handed  it  to  the  king.  "Take 
it  and  see  for  yourself,  my  husband," 
she  replied. 

The  king  hastily  opened  the  paper, 
and  then  looked  with  complete  astonish- 
ment, first  at  the  contents,  and  then  at 
the  blushing  countenance  of  the  queen. 

"How  now?"  he  exclaimed.  "A 
pawn  from  the  chess-board?  What 
does  this  mean  ?  " 

"  It  means,"  she  replied,  in  the  most 
contrite  accents,  "  It  means  that  I  stole 
this  piece  from  you  this  morning,  and 
by  such  deceit,  I  was  enabled  to  gain 
the  victory.  Oh,  pardon  me,  my  hus- 
band, but  I  could  no  longer  bear  the 
thought  of  always  losing,  and  I  was 
afraid  you  would  not  again  grant  me  the 
favor  of  playing  with  you,  if  you  thought 
what  a  feeble  and  contemptible  oppo- 
nent I  was.  This  little  pawn  was  my 
enemy ;  he  stood  beside  my  queen,  and 
threatened  to  take  her,  while  the  king 
was  held  in  check  by  your  bishop.  You 
were  just  about  to  make  this  move  with 
the  pawn,  which  must  have  been  my 
destruction,  when  my  lord,  the  Bishop 


of  Winchester  entered.  You  turned 
your  eyes  toward  him  for  a  moment, 
and  saluted  him,  leaving  the  game  un- 
observed. Oh,  my  lord  and  husband, 
the  temptation  was  too  alluring,  too  se- 
ductive, and  I  yielded  to  it.  I  took  the 
pawn  softly  from  the  board,  and  let  it 
glide  into  my  pocket.  When  you  turned 
round  and  resumed  the  game,  you 
seemed  at  first  astonished,  but  your 
noble  and  magnanimous  mind  did  not 
discover  my  wicked  fraud ;  and  so  you 
played  on  unsuspectingly,  and  thus  I  won 
the  game.  Oh,  my  king,  will  you  for- 
give, and  not  be  angry  with  me  ?  " 

The  king  burst  into  a  loud  fit  of 
laughter,  and  looked  with  an  expression 
of  tenderness  and  affection  at  Katharine, 
who  with  downcast  eyes  stood  blushing 
and  abashed  before  him.  This  spectacle 
only  redoubled  his  mirthfulness,  and  re- 
newed his  immoderate  laughter. 

"And  that  is  your  only  crime, 
Kate?"  he  asked  at  length,  drying  his 
eyes  with  his  handkerchief.  "  You  have 
stolen  a  pawn  from  me ;  that  is  your 
first  and  only  act  of  deceit?  " 

"  Is  it  not  already  great  enough,  sire  ? 
Did  I  not  purloin  it  because  I  was  so  ar- 
rogant as  to  wish  to  win  a  game  of  chess 
from  you?  Does  not  the  entire  court 
now  know  my  supreme  good  luck,  and 
that  I  have  this  day  gained  the  victory, 
while  in  reality  I  did  not  deserve  it, 
because  I  had  so  shamefully  deceived 
you?" 

"Well,  truly"  said  the  king  with 
solemn  gravity, — "happy  are  the  hus- 
bands who  are  no  worse  deceived  by 
their  wives,  than  in  what  you  have  done 


276 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


to-day,  Kate,  and  well  for  the  ladies 
whose  confession  has  been  as  pure  and 
guiltless  as  yours  has  been.  Come, 
raise  your  eyes  once  more,  my  Kate ;  the 
sin  is  forgiven,  and  it  will  only  be  attrib- 
uted to  you  as  a  virtue  by  God  and  by 
your  king." 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head,  as  if 
to  bless  her,  and  looked  at  her  for  some 
time  in  silence.  And  then  he  resumed 
with  a  laugh  : 

"Then  according  to  this,  Kate,  I 
should  have  been  the  conqueror  to-day 
and  not  have  lost  the  game  at  chess  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  replied  sadly,  "I  must 
have  lost  it  had  I  not  stolen  this  pawn." 

Once  more  the  king  laughed. 

"Believe  me,"  continued  Katharine 
earnestly — "  belieYe  me,  my  lord,  that 
Bishop  Gardiner — and  he  alone — should 
bear  the  blame  for  this  unhappy  occur- 
rence. As  he  was  present  I  was  unwill- 
ing to  lose.  It  roused  ray  pride  to 
think  that  this  haughty  and  insolent 
priest  should  be  a  witness  of  my  defeat. 
I  perceived  by  anticipation  the  cold  and 
contemptuous  smile  with  which  he 
would  look  down  upon  me — the  van- 
quished ;  and  my  spirit  revolted  at  the 
thought  of  being  humbled  in  his  pres- 
ence. And  this  brings  me  to  the  second 
part  of  my  guilt,  which  I  will  also  now 
confess  to  you.  Sire,  I  must  also  admit 
another  great  fault.  I  have  this  day 
gravely  offended  you,  by  contradicting 
and  opposing  your  wise  and  pious 
words.  Oh !  my  noble  husband,  it  was 
not  in  order  to  defy  you  that  I  did  so, 
but  in  ordor  to  annoy  and  mortify  the 
proud  priest.  For  I  must  acknowledge 


to  you,  my  good  lord,  that  I  hate  this 
Bishop  of  Winchester — nay  more,  I  fear 
him !  for  my  boding  heart  tells  me  that  he 
is  my  enemy ;'  that  he  watches  like  a  spy 
over  my  every  look,  every  word,  in  order 
to  convert  it  into  a  snare  for  my  destruc- 
tion. He  is  the  evil  genius  who  follows 
me  stealthily  about,  and  who  would  one 
day  certainly  crush  me,  if  I  were  not 
protected  by  your  cherishing  hand  and 
your  all-powerful  arm.  Oh,  when  I  see 
him,  I  should  always  like  to  take  refuge 
in  your  heart,  and  say  to  you,  '  Protect 
me,  my  king,  and  have  compassion  upon 
me.  Have  confidence  in  me  and  love 
me,  for  otherwise  I  am  lost  I  The 
wicked  enemy  is  at  hand  to  destroy 
me!'" 

And  while  she  thus  spoke  she  nestled 
closely  by  the  king's  side,  and  with  her 
head  resting  on  his  breast,  she  looked  up 
to  him  with  an  expression  of  tender  en- 
treaty and  touching  resignation. 

The  king  bent  down  and  kissed  her 
fair  upturned  brow. 

"Oh,  sancta  simplicitas ! "  he  mur- 
mured to  himself,  "  she  knows  not  how 
near  the  truth  she  is,  and  how  abso- 
lutely justified  her  evil  bodings  have 
been."  He  then  asked  alot*d:  "Then 
you  believe,  Kate,  that  Gardiner  hates 
you?" 

"  I  not  only  believe  it,  but  I  know  it ! 
she  replied.  "  He  stabs  me  to  the  quick 
whenever  he  can  ;  and  if  his  wounds  are 
but  those  of  pins,  it  is  only  because  he 
fears  you  would  discover  it  if  he  were  to 
use  a  dagger;  whereas  you  will  not 
perceive  the  pins  with  which  he  secretly 
stabs  me.  Indeed,  what  else  was  his 


THE   GAME   OF   CHESS. 


277 


visit  of  this  morning  than  a  new  attack 
upon  me  ?  He  well  knows,  and  I  have 
never  made  any  secret  of  the  matter, 
that  I  am  an  enemy  to  that  Catholic 
religion  whose  pope  has  dared  to  hnrl 
his  anathemas  against' my  lord  and  hus- 
band, and  that  with  lively  sympathy  I 
seek  to  be  informed  as  to  the  religious 
doctrines  of  those  who  are  called  re- 
formers." 

"  They  say  you  are  a  heretic,"  said  the 
king,  gravely. 

"  Yes,  Gardiner  says  so.  But  if  I  am 
one,  tli en  you  also  are  one,  for  your 
creed  is  mine.  If  I  am  a  heretic,  so  is 
Cranmer  too,  for  he  is  my  spiritual 
guide  and  counsellor.  But  Gardiner  has 
resolved  that  I  am  a  heretic,  and  he 
wishes,  moreover,  that  I  should  seem  one 
to  you.  Be  assured,  my  husband,  it  was 
on  that  account  that  he  laid  before  you 
those  eight  death-warrants.  Those  were 
eight  heretics  whom  you  were  to  con- 
demn, not  a  single  papist  was  among 
them;  and  yet  I  know  that  the  prisons 
are  full  of  papists,  who,  in  the  fanati- 
cism of  their  persecuted  belief,  have 
uttered  words  no  less  deserving  of  pun- 
ishment than  those  used  by  the  unhappy 
beings  whom  you  were  this  day  about  to 
banish  from  life  to  death,  by  a  stroke  of 
the  pen.  Sire,  I  would  have  besought 
you  with  no  less  warmth,  with  no  less 
entreaty,  had  these  persons  been  pa- 
pists, whom  you  were  going  to  con- 
demn to  death;  but  Gardiner  wished 
for  a  proof  of  my  heretical  sentiments, 
and  so  he  chose  eight  heretics,  for 
whose  sakes  he  desired  that  I  should 
oppose  myself  to  your  severe  decree." 


"It  is  true,"  said  the  king,  "not  a 
single  papist  was  among  them.  But  tell 
me  truly,  Kate,  are  you  a  heretic,  and 
the  opponent  of  your  king  ? " 

With  a  sweet  smile  she  looked  ear- 
nestly into  his  eyes,  and  crossed  her 
arms  with  humility  over  her  beautiful 
bosom. 

"Your  opponent!"  she  whispered; 
"  are  you  not  my  lord  and  husband?  Is 
not  the  woman  made  to  be  subject  to  the 
man?  Man  is  created  after  the  image  of 
God,  and  woman  after  the  image  of  man. 
Therefore,  the  woman  is  only  the  man's 
second  self,  and  he  must  mingle  com- 
passion with  his  love,  and  bestow  upon 
her  of  the  fulness  of  his  own  mind,  and 
cause  her  to  drink  from  the  fountains  of 
his  understanding.  Your  duty,  there- 
fore, is  to  instruct  me,  my  husband,  and 
mine  is  to  learn  of  you :  and  to  none,  of  all 
women  in  the  world,  is  this  duty  ren- 
dered so  easy  as  to  myself;  for  God  has 
been  gracious  toward  me,  and  has  given 
me  for  my  husband  a  king,  whose  prn- 
dence,  wisdom,  and  learning,  are  the 
theme  and  admiration  of  the  whole 
world." 

"  What  a  sweet  little  flatterer  you  are, 
Kate,"  said  the  king,  smiling ;  "  and 
with  what  a  bewitching  voice  you  wish 
to  conceal  the  truth  from  us.  The  truth 
is,  that  you  yourself  are  a  very  learned 
little  person,  who  does  not  at  all  require 
to  be  taught  by  others,  but  who  would 
be  quite  competent  to  teach  them." 

"  Oh,  if  that  be  so,"  exclaimed  Katha- 
rine. "  then  I  should  like  to  teach  the 
whole  world  to  love  my  king  as  I  do 
myself,  and  to  bo  as  submissive  to  him, 


2Y8 


HENRY  VIII.  AND   HIS  COURT. 


in  all  humility,  obedience,  and  fidelity,  as 
I  am." 

And  so  saying  she  flung  her  arms 
round  the  king's  neck,  and  leaned  her 
head,  with  a  languishing  expression, 
upon  his  breast. 

The  king  kissed  her,  and  clasped  her 
tenderly  to  his  heart.  He  no  longer  re- 
membered that  danger  was  still  hover- 
ing above  Katharine's  head;  he  only 
knew  that  he  loved  her,  and  that  with- 
out her,  life  would  be  a  very  wretched 
and  dreary  wilderness. 

"  And  now,  my  husband,"  said  Kath- 
arine, releasing  herself  gently  from  his 
embrace,  "now  that  I  have  made  my 
confession  to  you,  and  received  absolu- 
tion, let  us  go  down  into  the  garden, 
that  God's  bright  sun  may  shine  fresh 
and  joyful  into  our  hearts.  Come,  hus- 
band, your  rolling  chair  is  at  hand,  and 
the  bees  and  butterflies  have  already 
learned  a  hymn  with  which  they  are 
ready  to  greet  you." 

.  She  led  him  along,  laughing  and  jest- 
ing the  while,  into  the  adjoining  room, 
where  the  court  attendants  and  the 
rolling  chair  were  in  readiness;  and  the 
king  ascended  his  triumphal  chariot,  and 
suffered  himself  to  be  rolled  along  over 
the  carpet-laid  corridors,  and  down  the 
sloping  passage,  into  which  the  broad 
marble  steps  had  been  converted,  until  he 
reached  the  garden. 

The  air,  though  sharp  and  wintry,  had 
still  somewhat  of  the  genial  warmth  of 
spring.  The  grass  had  already  begun, 
like  an  industrious  weaver,  to  weave  a 
carpet  over  the  dark  surface  of  the 
squares,  and  already  here  and  there  a 


modest  but  curious  little  flower  began  to 
peep  forth,  and  seemed  to  smile  with  as- 
tonishment at  the  sight  of  its  own  pre- 
mature existence.  The  sun  appeared  so 
warm  and  bright — the  sky  was  so  blue 
— and  beside  the  king,  Katharine  moved 
along  with  such  rosy  cheeks  and  such 
brightly  beaming  eyes.  These  eyes 
were  continually  fixed  upon  her  hus- 
band, and  her  lively  chatter  seemed  to 
the  king  like  the  sweet  melody  of  birds, 
and  made  his  heart  bound  with  pleasure 
and  delight. 

But  hark !  what  was  that  loud  bustle, 
which  suddenly  drowned  the  queen's  mer- 
ry chatter? — what  was  it  that  gleamed 
up  at  the  end  of  the  great  alley  in  which 
the  royal  couple  and  their  retinue  hap- 
pened to  be  promenading  just  at  that 
moment  ? 

It  was  the  clatter  of  soldiery  moving 
forward,  and  glittering  helmets  and 
coats  of  mail  gleamed  in  the  sunshine. 

A  troop  of  soldiery  took  up  their  posi- 
tion at  the  end  of  the  alley — another 
troop  advanced  in  close  ranks ;  at  their 
head  were  Gardiner  and  Lord  Douglas> 
striding  forward,  with  the  lieutenant  of 
the  Tower  at  their  side. 

The  king's  countenance  assumed  a  sul- 
len and  angry  expression,  and  his  cheeks 
became  purple  and  scarlet.  He  raised 
himself  with  youthful  agility  from  his 
chair-carriage,  and  standing  erect,  looked 
with  flashing  eyes  at  the  advancing  pro- 
cession. 

The  queen  seized  his  hand  and  pressed 
it  to  her  breast.  u  Ah,"  she  whispered, 
gently,  u  protect  me,  my  husband,  for 
already  fear  overpowers  me  once  more. 


THE  GAME  OF  CHESS. 


279 


It  is  my  enemy — it  is  Gardiner  that  is 
coming,  and  I  tremble." 

"  You  shall  tremble  no  longer  before 
him,  Kate,"  said  the  king.  "Woe  be- 
tide those  who  dare  to  make  the  wife  of 
King  Henry  tremble!  I  must  speak 
with  Gardiner." 

And  the  king,  violently  excited  and 
angry,  pushed  along  somewhat  abruptly 
by  the  side  of  the  queen,  and  paid  no 
heed  to  the  pains  in  his  foot,  while  he 
strode  forward  with  rapid  steps  toward 
the  advancing  procession. 

He  made  a  signal  to  halt,  and  called 
Douglas  and  Gardiner  aside.  ""What 
do  you  want  here,  and  what  means  all 
this  strange  parade  ? "  he  inquired,  in  a 
harsh  voice. 

The  two  courtiers  stared  at  him  with 
terrified  looks,  and  dared  make  no 
reply. 

"Well?"  asked  the  king,  his  anger 
continually  rising,  "will  ye  tell  me  by 
what  right  ye  have  dared  to  intrude  thus 
into  our  garden  with  an  armed  host,  at 
the  very  moment  that  we  happen  to  be 
enjoying  a  promenade  with  our  royal 
spouse?  Verily,  there  is  no  excuse  for 
such  a  gross  violation  of  the  reverence 
and  awe  which  ye  owe  to  your  sovereign, 
and  I  greatly  marvel,  my  lord  master  of 
the  ceremonies,  that  you  did  not  attempt 
to  obviate  th is  impropriety !  " 

Lord  Douglas  muttered  a  few  words  of 
exculpation,  which  the  king  did  not,  or 
would  not,  understand. 

"  The  duty  of  a  chief  master  of  the 
ceremonies  is  to  protect  his  king  against 
every  injury  and  intrusion,  whereas,  you, 
my  Lord  Douglas,  bring  insult  yourself 


home  to  my  very  face.  Perhaps  you 
thus  wish  to  prove  to  me  that  you  are 
weary  of  the  office.  Very  well,  my 
lord,  I  release  you  from  such  duties ;  and 
in  order  that  your  presence  may  not 
again  remind  me  of  the  disagreeable  in- 
cidents of  this  morning,  you  shall  quit 
the  court  and  leave  London  at  once! 
Farewell,  my  lord." 

Lord  Douglas,  pale  and  trembling,  re- 
treated a  few  steps,  and  looked  at  the 
king  with  blank  astonishment  and  dis- 
may. He  wished  to  speak,  but  the  king 
waved  his  hand  imperiously,  and  com- 
manded him  to  be  silent. 

"  And  now,  to  you,  my  lord  bishop !  " 
said  the  king,  and  his  eyes  turned  upon 
Gardiner  with  such  an  expression  of  an- 
ger and  contempt,  that  the  latter  grew 
pale  and  cast  his  looks  to  the  ground. 
"  What  means  this  strange  retinue  with 
which  the  priest  of  God  this  day  ap- 
proaches his  royal  master,  and  from 
what  motive  of  Christian  love  do  you 
purpose  to-day  holding  a  wild-beast 
hunt  in  the  garden  of  your  king  ?  " 

"Sire,"  said  Gardiner,  beside  himself 
"  your  majesty  well  knows  what  I  come 
for;  it  is  by  your  majesty's  command 
that  I  have  come,  together  with  Lord 
Douglas  and  the  lieutenant  of  the 
Tower,  in  order — " 

"  Silence !  not  another  word  !  "  cried 
the  king,  who  felt  enraged  that  Gardiner 
did  not  understand  him,  and  would  not 
perceive  the  king's  altered  disposition. 
"How  dare  you  parade  my  commands, 
when  full  of  just  astonishment  I  ask  you 
the  cause  of  your  appearance  ?  This 
means,  sir,  that  you  wish  to  give  your 


280 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


lord  and  king  the  lie — you  wish  to  ex- 
cuse yourself,  by  accusing  me.  Ah  !  my 
worthy  lord  bishop,  you  have  made 
shipwreck  of  your  schemes  this  time,  and 
I  disown  both  you  and  your  foolish  en- 
terprise. No,  there  is  no  one  here 
whom  you  wish  to  arrest,  and  by  God's 
mother  if  your  eyes  were  not  blind  you 
would  have  seen  that  here,  where  the 
king  is  enjoying  the  air  with  his  queen, 
no  one  could  abide  whom  these  myr- 
midons had  to  seek  !  The  vicinity  of 
royal  majesty  is  like  the  vicinity  of  God 
himself;  it  sheds  peace  and  happiness 
around  it,  and  whoever  comes  within  the 
precincts  of  its  halo,  receives  thereby 
sacredness  and  pardon." 

"  But,  your  majesty,"  cried  Gardiner, 
whom  anger  and  disappointed  hopes  had 
caused  to  forget  all  discretion  and  re- 
serve, "  you  wished  that  the  queen 
should  be  arrested.  You  gave  me  the 
command  to  do  so  yourself,  and  now, 
when  I  come  to  execute  your  wishes, 
you  now  disown  me  1  " 

The  king  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
rage,  and  with  uplifted  arm  advanced  a 
few  paces  toward  Gardiner. 

But  suddenly  he  felt  his  arm  re- 
strained. It  was  Katharine,  who  had 
hastened  forward  to  the  king.  "  Oh, 
my  husband,"  she  whispered,  gently, 
"  whatever  he  may  have  done,  spare 
him !  He  is  still  a  priest  of  the  Lord, 
and  so  let  his  sacred  garb  protect  him, 
even  though,  perhaps,  his  deeds  should 
condemn  him." 

"  Ah,  you  intercede  for  him  ?  "  cried 
the  king.  "  Verily,  my  poor  wife,  you 
do  not  suspect  what  little  ground  you 


have  to  pity  him,  and  to  beg  me  to  par- 
don him.  But  you  are  right,  we  will 
respect  his  priestly  robe,  and  no  longer 
reflect  what  an  arrogant  and  intriguing 
man  that  robe  covers.  But  beware, 
priest,  beware  of  again  reminding  me 
of  this ;  for  my  anger  would  inevitably 
fall  upon  you,  and  I  would  show  you  as 
little  mercy  as  you  say  I  am  bound  to 
exhibit  toward  other  evil-doers.  And 
as  you  are  a  priest,  suffer  yourself  to  be 
impressed  with  the  gravity  becoming  your 
office,  and  the  sacredness  of  your  call- 
ing. Your  episcopal  seat  is  at  Winches- 
ter, and  I  believe  your  duties  summon 
you  thither.  "We  require  your  services 
here  no  longer,  for  the  wise  and  discreet 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  returns  back 
to  us,  and  will  have  to  fulfil  the  duties 
of  his  office  beside  the  queen.  Fare- 
well !  " 

He  turned  his  back  upon  Gardiner, 
and  leaning  upon  Katharine's  arm  re- 
turned to  his  carriage  chair. 

"Kate,"  he  said,  "just  now  there 
was  a  dark  cloud  hanging  over  your  sky, 
but  thanks  to  your  smile  and  to  your  in- 
nocent countenance,  it  has  passed  away 
without  harm.  It  would  seem  to  us 
that  we  are  specially  bound  to  thank 
you  for  this  matter,  and  it  would  afford 
us  a  great  pleasure  to  be  able  to  testify 
this  to  you  by  some  token  of  love.  Is 
there  nothing,  Kate,  that  would  give 
you  special  satisfaction  ?  " 

"•  Oh,  certainly,"  she  replied,  with  de- 
light. u  There  are  two  great  wishes 
which  I  ardently  cherish." 

"  Then  name  them,  Kate,  and  by 
God:s  mother,  if  it  be  in  the  power  of  a 


THE   GAME  OF  CHESS. 


281 


king  to  accomplish  them,  it  shall  be 
done!" 

Katharine  siezed  his  hand  and  pressed 
it  to  her  heart.  "  Sire,"  said  she,  u  you 
were  this  day  requested  to  sign  eight 
death-warrants.  Oh,  my  good  lord, 
make  these  eight  culprits,  eight  happy 
and  grateful  subjects,  teach  them  to  love 
their  king  whom  they  have  calumniated 
— teach  their  children,  their  wives  and 
mothers  to  pray  for  you,  by  restoring 
freedom  to  their  sons,  husbands  and  fa- 
thers, and  by  granting  them  pardon  with 
that  greatness  and  clemency  most  like 
the  divine  attributes." 

"  It  shall  be  done !  "  cried  the  king, 
cheerfully.  "  Our  hand  shall  this  day 
have  no  other  labor  than  to  rest  in  yours, 
and  we  will  spare  it  the  trouble  of  these 
eight  signatures.  As  for  the  eight  male- 
factors they  are  pardoned,  and  they 
shall  be  free  this  very  day !  " 

With  an  outburst  of  delight,  Katha- 
rine pressed  Henry's  hand  to  her  lips, 
and  her  countenance  became  radiant 
with  pure  joy. 

"  And  your  second  wish  ?  "  inquired 
the  king. 

"My  second  wish,"  she  replied,  smil- 
ing, "also  begs  for  freedom  for  a  poor 
prisoner — for  freedom  for  a  human  heart, 
sire !  " 

The  king  laughed.  "  A  human  heart  ? 
What !  does  it  then  run  about  the  streets 
in  such  a  way,  that  it  can  be  caught  and 
made  a  prisoner  of  ?  " 

"  Sire,  you  sought  it  out  and  impris- 
oned it  in  the  bosom  of  your  daughter. 
You  wish  to  keep  Elizabeth's  heart  in 
fetters,  and  by  an  unnatural  law  you  want 


to  compel  her  to  renounce  the  freedom 
of  her  own  choice.  Oh,  sire,  it  is  not  the 
princess,  but  myself,  whom  this  law  has 
painfully  touched.  Only  imagine :  to 
attempt  to  command  a  woman's  heart, 
to  inquire  first  after  pedigrees  and  coats- 
of-arms,  before  any  regard  should  be  had 
to  the  individual  who  might  be  the  ob- 
ject of  her  choice !  " 

"  Oh,  women,  women,  what  foolish 
children  ye  are !  "  exclaimed  the  king, 
laughing.  "A  throne  is  at  stake,  and 
you  are  thinking  of  your  hearts.  But 
come,  Kate,  you  shall  explain  that  mat- 
ter to  me  at  a  greater  length,  and  we 
will  not  recall  our  word,  for  we  have 
pledged  it  to  you  from  a  free  and  a  joy- 
ful heart." 

He  took  the  queen's  arm,  and  leaning 
upon  it,  walked  with  her  slowly  along 
the  avenue.  In  silence  and  at  a  respect- 
ful distance,  followed  the  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen of  the  court,  and  no  one  sus- 
pected that  the  royal  lady  who  moved 
along  before  them  with  such  a  proud 
and  stately  air,  had  but  just  then  es- 
caped from  a  deadly  danger  which 
threatened  her — or  that  this  man,  who 
with  such  yielding  tenderness  now  hung 
upon  her  arm,  had  but  a  few  brief  hour's 
before,  doomed  her  to  destruction. 

And  while  they  both  thus  wandered 
along  the  walks  and  alleys  in  confiden- 
tial discourse,  two  other  individuals 
with  bowed  heads  and  pallid  features, 
quitted  the  royal  palace,  which  hence- 
forth should  be  for  them  a  lost  paradise. 
Their  hearts  were  filled  with  gloomy 
rancor  and  fierce  hatred,  but  they  were 
compelled  to  bear  it  in  silence;  they 


282 


HENKY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


must  smile  and  look  happy,  in  order 
that  they  might  not  prepare  a  malicious 
joy  for  the  court.  They  felt  the  spite- 
ful glances  of  all  these  courtiers;  al- 
though they  passed  them  by  with  down- 
cast looks ;  they  though  they  heard  their 
jeering  whispers,  and  their  mocking 
laughter,  and  it  pierced  them  to  the 
heart  like  a  dagger. 

At  length  they  had  passed  this  ordeal 
— at  length  the  palace  lay  behind  them, 
and  they  were  now  at  least  free  to  give 
utterance  in  words  to  the  torment  which 
consumed  them — free  to  break  forth  into 
bitter  complaints  and  curses  and  impre- 
cations, at  their  recent  discomfiture. 

41  Lost !  all  is  lost !  "  said  Lord  Doug- 
las, in  accents  of  dull  despair.  "  I  have 
made  shipwreck  of  all  my  plans.  I  have 
sacrificed  to  the  Church  my  life,  my 
property — nay  my  own  daughter — and 
all  to  no  purpose !  I  am  now  left  alone 
and  comfortless  like  a  beggar  in  the 
streets;  and  the  Holy  Mother  Church 
will  no  longer  regard  the  son  who  loved 
her,  and  who  sacrificed  himself  for  her 
sake,  for  he  was  unsuccessful,  and  his 
sacrifice  has  been  unfruitful." 

"Do  not  despond,"  said  Gardiner, 
with  a  solemn  air.  "  The  clouds  are 
now  gathering  overhead,  but  they  will 
again  become  scattered ;  for  after  the 
storm  comes  the  sunshine.  "  Our  day 
will  corne,  my  friend.  We  are  now 
going  hence,  our  hearts  bowed  down 
and  our  heads  bestrewed  with  ashes; 
but,  believe  me,  a  time  will  corne  when 
we  shall  return  with  radiant  counte- 
nance  and  exultant  hearts;  and  the 
flaming  sword  of  divine  vengeance 


will  gleam  in  our  hands,  and  we  shall 
wear  a  purple  robe  dyed  in  the  blood  of 
heretics,  whom  we  will  offer  to  the  Lord 
our  God  as  a  well-pleasing  sacrifice. 
The  Almighty  is  reserving  us  for  a  bet- 
ter time,  and  trust  me,  my  friend,  our 
banishment  is  but  a  place  of  refuge 
which  the  Lord  has  provided  for  us  for 
the  evil  times  which  are  at  hand." 

"  You  speak  of  evil  times,  and  yet  you 
hope,  my  lord  ?  "  asked  Douglas,  gloom- 

ay. 

"  And  yet  I  hope!  "  replied  Gardiner, 
with  a  strange  and  ghastly  smile,  and 
stooping  forward  toward  Douglas,  he 
whispered:  "The  king  has  but  a  few 
more  days  to  live.  He  does  not  suspect 
how  near  he  is  to  death,  arid  no  one  has 
the  courage  to  tell  him  so,  but  his  phy- 
sician has  told  me  the  fact  in  confidence. 
His  vital  powers  are  exhausted,  and 
death  now  stands  at  his  door  ready  to 
strangle  him." 

"And  when  he  is  gone,"  said  Lord 
Douglas,  with  a  shrug,  "his  son  Edward 
will  be  king,  and  those  heretical  Sey- 
mours will  guide  the  helm  of  state ! 
Does  your  lordship  consider  that  a  hope- 
ful symptom  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

"Then  you  are  not  aware  that  Ed- 
ward,— albeit  so  young — is  a  fanatical 
adherent  of  the  heretical  doctrines,  and 
likewise  a  furious  opponent  of  our  Holy 
Church  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am  aware  of  all  that,  but  I 
am  also  aware  that  Edward  is  a  delicate 
boy ;  and  a  holy  prophesy  is  current  in 
our  Church,  which  declares  that  his 
reign  will  be  of  brief  duration.  God 


THE   GAME   OF   CHESS. 


283 


only  knows  how  his  death  will  come 
about,  but  the  Church  has  already  often 
seen  her  enemies  die  suddenly ;  and 
death  has  often  been  the  most  powerful 
ally  of  our  Holy  Mother.  Believe, 
therefore,  my  son,  and  hope ;  for  I  tell 
you  Edward's  reign  will  be  a  short  one ! 
And  after  him,  she  will  ascend  the  throne 
— the  noble  and  pious  Mary,  the  strict 
and  fervent  Catholic,  who  hates  the 
heretics  as  much  as  Edward  loves  them. 
Oh,  my  friend,  when  Mary  ascends  the 
throne,  then  shall  we  go  forth  from  our 
humiliation,  and  power  will  once  more  be 
in  our  own  hands.  Then  will  all  England 
become  one  vast  temple,  and  on  its  al- 
tars will  be  kindled  the  fires  in  which 
we  shall  consume  the  heretics,  and  their 
moans  and  lamentations  will  be  the 
sacred  hymns  which  shall  be  sung  to  the 
honor  of  God  and  of  His  Holy  Church. 
Look  forward  with  hope  to  this  time, 
for  I  tell  you  it  will  speedily  arrive !  " 

"  If  YOU  say  so,  then  it  will  come  to 
pass,  my  lord,"  said  Douglas,  significant- 
ly. "  I  shall  therefore  hope  and  wait. 
Anticipating  the  evil  days  I  shall  retire 
to  Scotland,  and  look  forward  to  the 
better  days  to  come." 

"  And  I  shall  withdraw,  as  this  king 
by  God's  anger  has  commanded,  to  my 
episcopal  seat.  God's  vengeance  will 
soon  summon  Henry  from  hence.  May 
his  dying  hour  be  one  of  torment,  and 
may  the  anathema  of  the  holy  father 
cling  to  him,  and  be  fulfilled  in  this  life 
and  in  the  next!  Farewell,  we  are  de- 
parting with  the  olive  branch  of  peace 
thrust  upon  us,  but  we  shall  return  with 
the  flaming  sword,  and  the  blood  of  the 


heretics  shall  trickle  down  from  our 
hands !  " 

Once  more  they  exchanged  greetings 
before  parting,  and  ere  sunset  they  had 
both  quitted  London. 

A  short  time  after  this  eventful  prom- 
enade in  the  garden  of  Whitehall,  the 
queen  entered  the  apartments  of  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  who  with  joyful  im- 
patience hastened  forward  to  meet  her, 
and  folded  her  impetuously  in  her  arms. 

"  Saved !  "  she  whispered.  u  The  dan- 
ger is  surmounted,  and  you  are  once 
more  the  powerful  queen — the  adored 
wife !  " 

"  And  it  is  you  I  thank  for  it  all,  prin- 
cess. "Without  this  warrant  of  commit- 
tal which  you  brought  jne  I  must  have 
been  lost.  But  oh,  Elizabeth,  what  a  try- 
ing ordeal,  what  a  martyrdom  have  I  not 
undergone !  To  smile  and  jest  while  my 
heart  was  trembling  with  anxiety  and  ter- 
ror ;  to  seem  easy  and  composed  when  I 
felt  as  if  I  already  saw  the  axe  gleaming 
in  the  air,  ready  to  fall  upon  my  neck.  I 
have  suffered  the  torments  and  the  agony 
of  a  whole  life  in  this  one  hour  ;  my  soul 
within  me  is  worried  to  death,  and  my 
strength  is  quite  exhauste;!.  I  fain 
would  weep — weep  unceasingly  over 
this  wretched  and  deceitful  world,  in 
which  it  is  not  enough  to  wish  what  is 
right  and  to  do  what  is  good — in  which 
one  must  practice  falsehood  and  flattery, 
deceit  and  dissimulation,  to  avoid  be- 
coming a  victim  of  unkindness  and 
malice.  But  ah,  Elizabeth,  even  my 
tears  I  dared  only  weep  inwardly,  for  a 
queen  has  not  the  right  to  be  sad,  she 
must  always  be  cheerful,  always  con- 


284 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


tented  and  happy,  and  only  God  and 
the  still  silent  night  know  her  sighs  and 
tears." 

"And  I,  too,  might  be  a  witness  of 
them,"  said  Elizabeth,  earnestly,  "for 
you  well  know  that  you  may  trust  me, 
and  depend  upon  me." 

Katharine  kissed  her  tenderly. 

u  You  have  this  day  done  me  a  great 
service,  and  I  have  not  come  merely  to 
thank  you  with  sounding  words,  but 
with  deeds ;  Elizabeth,  your  wish  will  be 
granted.  The  king  will  revoke  the  de- 
cree which  would  compel  you  to  give 
your  hand  only  to  a  husband  of  equal 
birth  with  yourself." 

"Oh,"  cried  Elizabeth,  with  radiant 
looks,  "  then  I  shall  perhaps  one  day 
be  able  to  make  the  man  I  love  a  king !  " 

Katharine  smiled. 

"You  have  a  proud  and  ambitious 
heart,"  she  said.  "  God  has  endowed  you 
with  extraordinary  abilities ;  be  careful  of 
them,  and  increase  them,  for  my  boding 
heart  tells  me  that  you  are  destined  one 
day  to  become  Queen  of  England.  But 
who  knows  if  you  will  then  still  wish  to 
raise  the  man  whom  you  now  love  to  be 
your  husband.  A  queen  such  as  you  will 
be,  sees  with  other  eyes  than  those  of  the 
young  and  inexperienced  maiden.  Per- 
haps I  have  not  done  right  in  urging  the 
king  to  make  this  alteration  in  the  law, 
for  I  don't  know  the  man  whom  you 
love,  and  who  knows  if  he  be  worthy 
that  you  should  bestow  upon  him  your 
pure  and.  guileless  heart." 

Elizabeth  twined  her  arms  with  ca- 
ressing tenderness  round  Katharine's 
neck. 


"  Oh,"  she  exclaimed,  "  he  would  even 
be  worthy  of  your  own  love,  Katharine, 
for  he  is  the  handsomest  and  noblest 
cavalier  in  the  whole  world  ;  and  though 
he  is  no  king,  yet  he  is  a  king's  brother- 
in-law,  and  will  one  day  be  the  uncle  of 
a  king." 

Katharine  felt  as  if  her  heart  was 
convulsed,  and  a  slight  shudder  ran 
through  her  whole  frame. 

"  And  am  I  to  know  his  name? "  she 
inquired. 

"Yes,  you  shall  know  it  now,  for 
there  is  no  longer  any  danger  in  know- 
ing it.  The  man  whom  I  love,  queen,  is 
Thomas  Seymour!  " 

Katharine  uttered  a  loud  cry,  and 
thrust  Elizabeth  violently  away  from 
her. 

"  Thomas  Seymour !  ?'  she  exclaimed, 
in  threatening  tones !  "  what !  you  dare 
to  love  Thomas  Seymour  ?  " 

"  And  why  should  I  not  dare  to  do 
so!  "  asked  the  young  maiden,  aston- 
ished. "Why  should  I  not  give  him  my 
heart,  since,  thanks  to  yonr  intervention 
on  my  behalf,  I  am  no  longer  constrained 
to  choose  a  husband  of  royal  birth  ?  Is 
not  Thomas  Seymour  one  of  the  first 
noblemen  in  this  kingdom  ?  Does  not 
all  England  look  upon  him  with  pride 
and  affection  ?  does  not  every  woman 
feel  honored  by  his  mere  notice  ?  and 
does  not  the  king  himself  smile  and 
look  pleased  when  Thomas  Seymour, 
the  gay,  the  brave  and  courageous  war- 
rior, stands  by  his  side  ?  " 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Katharine,  to 
whose  heart  every  one  of  these  words  of 
ecstasy  penetrated  like  a  dagger.  "  Yes, 


THE  DENOUEMENT. 


285 


you  are  right,  he  is  worthy  of  being 
loved  by  you,  and  you  could  hit  upon 
no  better  choice.  It  was  merely  mo- 
mentary surprise  which  caused  me  to 
see  matters  in  a  different  light.  Thomas 
Seymour  is  the  brother  of  a  king,  and 
why,  therefore,  should  he  not  be  the  hus- 
band of  a  royal  princess  ?  " 

Elizabeth,  with  a  modest  blush,  hid 
her  face  on  Katharine's  bosom.  She  did 
not  perceive  with  what  an  expression  of 
agony  and  horror  the  queen  regarded 
her — how  her  lips  were  pressed  together 
convulsively,  and  how  her  cheeks  as- 
sumed a  death-like  paleness. 

"  And  he  ? "  she  asked  softly.  "  Does 
Thomas  Seymour  love  you  ?  " 

Elizabeth  raised  her  head  and  looked 
at  her  interrogator  with  surprise. 

"What!  is  it  then  possible  that  one 
could  love  without  being  loved  in  re- 
turn?" 

"You  are  right,"  sighed  Katharine, 
"one  must  be  very  weak  and  lowly- 
minded  to  do  so." 

"  Good  heavens,  how  pale  you  are, 
queen !  "  exclaimed  Elizabeth,  who  now 
for  the  first  time  observed  the  pallid 
countenance  of  Katharine.  "  Your  fea- 
tures are  quite  altered,  and  your  lips 
tremble.  Tell  me,  I  entreat  you,  what 
does  this  mean  ? " 

"Oh,  it  is  nothing,"  replied  Katha- 
rine, with  a  painful  smile.  "  The 
excitement  and  terror  of  this  day  have 
exhausted  my  strength.  That  is  all. 
Besides  this,  a  new  suffering  threatens 
us,  of  which  you  are  at  present  quite 
unaware.  The  king  is  dangerously  ill. 
He  was  seized  with  a  sudden  gid-  and  distressing  grief,  Katharine  had  at 


diness,  which  caused  him  to  sink  down 
almost  lifeless  beside  me.  I  came  to 
you  to  bring  you  the  king's  message, 
and  now  my  duty  recalls  me  to  the  sick 
chamber  of  my  husband.  Good  bye, 
Elizabeth ! " 

She  waved  her  hand  in  farewell  greet- 
ing, and  left  the  room  with  hurried 
steps.  She  summoned  up  courage  and 
resolution  to  repress  her  feelings,  and  to 
hide  the  anguish  of  her  heart,  in  order 
that  she  might  be  able  to  maintain  her 
proud  and  lofty  bearing,  while  passing 
through  the  saloons ;  for  to  the  courtiers 
who  bowed  before  her,  she  wished  to 
preserve  the  composure  befitting  a 
queen,  lest  any  one  should  suspect  the 
agony  which  she  endured,  and  which 
preyed  upon  her  inwardly  like  a  con- 
suming fire. 

But  at  length,  having  reached  her 
boudoir,  and  being  secure  from  observa- 
tion, she  was  no  longer  a  queen,  but 
only  a  sensitive  woman,  overwhelmed 
with  acute  pain  and  suffering. 

She  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  exclaim- 
ed in  accents  of  heart-rending  agony, 
"Oh,  God, — my  God,  suffer  me  to  be- 
come delirious,  that  I  may  no  longer  be 
conscious  that  he  has  forsaken  me  I  " 


CHAPTER  XL 


THB      DENOUEMENT. 


AFTEE  days  of  secret  anguish  and  hid- 
den tears,  after  nights  of  painful  sobbing 


286 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


length  found  relief;  she  had  at  fength 
formed  a  firm  and  decisive  resolution. 

The  king  was  ill  beyond  recovery,  and 
however  much  she  had  suffered  and  en- 
dured through  his  means,  yet  he  was 
still  her  husband,  and  she  was  unwilling 
to  stand  beside  his  dying  bed  as  a 
forsworn  deceiver.  She  was  unwilling 
to,  be  obliged  to  cast  her  eyes  to  the 
ground  before  the  waning  glance  of  the 
dying  king.  She  wished  to  renounce  her 
love — this  love  which  had  been  as  pure 
and  chaste  as  the  prayer  of  a  virgin, 
which  had  stood  above  her  as  unap- 
proachably distant,  and  yet  as  great  and 
all-illuming  as  the  morning  sun,  and 
which  had  shed  upon  the  dark  path  of 
her  life  the  rays  of  a  heavenly  light. 

She  wished  to  make  a  sacrifice  the 
most  difficult — to  relinquish  her  lover  in 
favor  of  another  woman.  Elizabeth 
loved  him.  Katharine  sought  not  to 
fathom  or  discover  if  Thomas  Seymour 
loved  her  in  return,  or  if  the  vows  which 
he  had  plighted  to  herself  the  queen, 
had  been  in  reality  nothing  more  than 
a  phantasy — a  falsehood.  No.  She  did 
not  believe  it.  She  would  not  believe 
that  Thomas  Seymour  was  capable  of 
treachery  and  double-dealing.  But 
Elizabeth  loved  him,  and  she  was  young 
and  beautiful,  and  a  splendid  future  lay 
before  her.  Katharine  loved  Thomas 
Seymour  sufficiently  to  be  unwilling  to 
withdraw  him  from  this  future,  but  to 
offer  herself  joyfully  as  a  sacrifice  to  the 
happiness  of  her  beloved.  "What  was 
she — a  woman  matured  by  pain  and 
sorrow,  compared  with  the  youthful 
Elizabeth  in  the  bloom  of  early  life? 


What  had  she  to  offer  to  her  beloved 
beyond  a  life  of  retirement,  of  love,  and 
of  secluded  happiness  ?  "When  once  the 
king  was  dead,  and  she  herself  set  free, 
Edward  the  Sixth  would  ascend  the 
throne,  and  then  Katharine  would  be 
nothing  more  than  the  displaced  and  for- 
gotten widow  of  a  king ;  while  Elizabeth  * 
— a  king's  sister,  would  perhaps  be  able 
to  bring  the  man  she  loved,  a  crown,  as 
her  dowry  and  offering. 

Thomas  Seymour  was  ambitious,  and 
this  Katharine  well  knew.  A  day 
might  come  when  he  would  repent  hav- 
ing chosen  the  widow  of  a  king,  rather 
than  the  heiress  of  a  throne. 

Katharine  wished  to  anticipate  this 
day ;  she  resolved  to  relinquish  her  lover 
of  her  own  free  will,  to  the  princess 
Elizabeth.  She  had  violently  struggled 
with  her  heart  to  achieve  this  sacrifice. 
She  had  repressed  its  groans,  and 
smothered  its  cries  of  lamentation. 

She  went  to  Elizabeth,  and  said  to 
her  with  a  smile:  " To-day,  princess, 
I  shall  bring  your  beloved  to  see  you. 
The  king  has  fulfilled  his  promise;  he 
has,  this  day,  with  his  last  fainting 
strength,  signed  the  decree  which  gives 
you  the  liberty  not  only  of  choosing 
your  husband  from  amongst  the  ranks 
of  princes,  but  of  following  in  your 
choice  the  dictates  of  your  own  heart. 
This  act  I  shall  convey  to  your  beloved, 
and  shall  assure  him  of  my  own  aid  and 
cooperation.  The  king  is  to-day  in  a 
most  critical  state,  and  his  consciousness 
is  fast  fading.  Be  assured,  however,  that 
if  he  should  be  in  a  condition  to  hear 
me,  I  shall  exert  all  my  powers  of 


THE  DENOUEM 


persuasion  to  incline  him  to  your  wishes, 
and  to  induce  him  to  give  his  consent 
to  your  marriage  with  Lord  Sudley.  I 
am  now  going  to  receive  the  earl. 
Wait,  therefore,  in  your  chamber,  prin- 
cess, for  Seymour  will  soon  come  to 
bring  you  the  decree." 

While  she  thus  spoke,  she  felt  as  if 
her  heart  were  being  pierced  with  red- 
hot  daggers — as  if  a  two-edged  sword 
were  penetrating  her  breast.  But 
Katharine  had  a  firm  and  resolute  spirit, 
and  she  had  made  a  vow  to  bear  all  this 
agony  to  the  end,  and  she  bore  it.  Not 
a  quiver  of  her  lip — not  a  sigh — not  an 
exclamation  betrayed  the  pain  which 
she  suffered;  and  even  though  her 
cheeks  were  colorless,  and  her  eyes 
dim,  it  was  because  she  had  spent 
.long  and  dreary  nights  of  wakefulness 
and  watching  beside  her  husband's  sick- 
bed, and  because  she  mourned  for  the 
dying  king. 

She  had  the  heroism  to  embrace  affec- 
tionately this  young  maiden,  to  whom 
she  was  about  to  yield  up  her  love  as  a 
sacrifice,  and  to  listen  with  a  smile  to 
the  earnest  words  of  gratitude,  of  rap- 
ture, and  of  expectant  happiness,  which 
Elizabeth  addressed  to  her. 

With  tearless  eyes,  and  with  a  firm 
step,  she  returned  to  her  apartments, 
and  her  voice  trembled  not,  as  she  com- 
manded the  gentlemen-in-wating  to 
summon  to  her  the  master  of  the  horse 
—the  Earl  of  Sudley.  Only,  she  had  a 
feeling  as  if  her  heart  were  broken  and 
crushed,  and  she  murmured  gently  and 
with  complete  resignation  :  u  I  shall  die 
when  he  is  gone!  But  while  he  is 


present  I  will  live,  and  he  shall  never 
suspect  what  I  suffer !  " 

And  while  Katharine  suffered  thus 
fearfully,  Elizabeth  was  exulting  with 
rapture  and  delight,  for  now  at  length 
she  had  reached  the  goal  of  her  wishes, 
and  this  very  day  would  see  her  the  affi- 
anced bride  of  her  beloved.  Oh,  how 
slowly  and  tediously  the  minutes  crept 
along!  What  ages  she  had  still  to 
wait  until  he  should  come — her  lover — 
and  soon  to  be  her  husband  ! 

Was  he  still  with  the  queen  ?  Should 
she  yet  wait  for  him?  She  stood 
at  the  window  like  an  exile,  and  look- 
ed across  toward  the  court-yard. — 
Through  yonder  great  gateway  he  must 
come — through  yonder  door  he  must 
pass,  in  order  to  reach  the  apartments 
of  the  queen. 

She  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  a 
lively  glow  suffused  her  countenance — 
there,  there  he  was !  There  his  carriage 
had  stopped,  and  his  gold-laced  footman 
opened  the  door,  and  he  alighted. 
How  handsome  he  was,  and  how  noble 
his  bearing !  How  proud  and  lofty  his 
form — how  regular  his  features — how 
blooming  his  youthful  countenance ! 
How  fearless  was  his  haughty  smile,  and 
how  his  eyes  flashed  and  blazed  with 
excess  of  youthful  wantonness  and 
ardor!  For  a  moment  his  looks  were 
directed  toward  Elizabeth's  window. 
He  saluted  her,  and  then  entered  the 
door  which  led  to  the  wing  of  the  palace 
in  which  the  queen's  apartments  were 
situated.  Elizabeth's  heart  throbbed  so 
violently  that  she  felt  as  if  deprived  of 
breath.  He  must  by  this  time  have 


HENRY  VIII.  AND  HIS  COURT. 


reached  the  grand  staircase — now  he 
had  gained  the  top — now  he  had  en- 
tered the  queen's  apartments — he  had 
passed  through  the  first,  second, .  and 
third  saloons.  In  the  fourth,  Katharine 
was  awaiting  him. 

Alas !  Elizabeth  would  willingly  have 
given  a  year  of  her  life  to  hear  what 
Katharine  would  say  to  him,  and  what 
he  would  reply  on  learning  this  surpris- 
ing intelligence  —  a  year  of  her  life  to 
he  able  to  witness  his  delight,  his  as- 
tonishment, and  his  joy. 

He  was  so  handsome  when  he  smiled 
—so  captivating  when  his  eyes  flashed 
with  love  and  pleasure. 

Elizabeth  was  a  young,  impetuous 
child.  She  felt  as  if  she  must  choke 
with  the  agony  of  delay ;  her  heart  was 
on  her  lips,  and  she  could  scarcely 
breathe.  She  was  so  impatient  to  be 
happy ! 

"  Ob,  if  he  does  not  come  soon,  I 
shall  die,"  she  murmured.  "  If  I  could 
only  see  him,  or  at  least  hear  him — " 
She  suddenly  ceased,  her  eyes  glistened, 
and  a  smile  of  inward  satisfaction  played 
upon  her  features.  "Yes,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  I  will  see  him  and  hear  him  too. 
I  can  and  will  do  so  !  I  have  the  key 
which  the  queen  gave  me,  and  which 
opens  the  door  that  divides  my  room 
from  hers.  With  this  key  I  shall  reach 
her  bedchamber,  and  adjoining  the  bed- 
chamber is  her  boudoir,  in  which  she 
will  doubtless  receive  the  earl.  I  shall 
enter  quite  softly,  and  concealing  myself 
behind  the  portiere  which  separates  the 
bedroom  from  the  boudoir,  I  shah1  be 
v,  able  to  see  him  and  to  hear  all  he  says." 


She  laughed  aloud  with  the  merriment 
of  a  child,  and  rushed  across  the  room 
for  the  key,  which  lay  upon  her  writing- 
table.  She  seized  it,  and  swinging  it 
above  her  head  like  a  trophy,  she  ex- 
claimed,," I  shall  see  him  !  " 

And  then  with  a  light  step,  and  with 
a  joyful  and  beaming  countenance,  she 
left  the  room. 

She  had  judged  rightly.  Katharine 
received  the  earl  in  her  boudoir.  She 
was  seated  on  an  ottoman  facing  the 
door  which  led  into  the  great  reception- 
saloon.  This  door  stood  open,  and 
Katharine  could  therefore  command  a 
view  of  the  whole  of  this  large  room. 
She  could  see  the  earl  as  he  passed 
through.  She  could,  once  more,  with 
painfully  sweet  emotion,  delight  herself 
in  contemplating  his  noble  and  lofty 
bearing,  and  suffer  her  looks  to  dwell 
upon  him  with  love  and  worship. 

At  length,  however,  he  had  entered 
the  boudoir ;  and  now  her  happiness  and 
her  sweet  visions  were  over — her  rap- 
ture and  her  hopes  were  at,  an  end. 

She  was  now  nothing  more  than  the 
queen — the  wife  of  a  dying  king.  No 
longer  the  beloved  of  the  Earl  of  Sud- 
]ey — no  longer  his  future  bride — his 
happiness. 

She  summoned  resolution  to  greet 
him  with  a  smile,  and  her  voice  betrayed 
no  emotion  as  she  commanded  him  to 
shut  the  door  leading  into  the  saloon, 
and  to  let  the  hangings  fall. 

He  did  so,  while  he  looked  at  her  in 
utter  astonishment.  He  did  not  under- 
stand how  she  could  venture  to  grant 
him  this  interview;  for  the  king  wa? 


THE  DENOUEMENT. 


289 


still  alive,  and  even  with  his  faltering 
tongue  he  could  yet  crush  them  both. 

Why  did  she  not  wait  till  the  next 
morning  ?  By  that  time  the  king  might 
be  dead,  and  then  they  could  see  each 
other  without  constraint  and  without 
danger.  Then  she  would  be  his  own, 
and  nothing  could  any  longer  intervene 
between  them  and  happiness.  Now, 
when  the  king  was  at  the  point  of  death, 
he  loved  her  only — he  loved  Katharine 
alone.  His  ambition  had  decided  against 
his  inclinations,  and  death  had  become 
the  umpire  between  Seymour's  waning 
love,  and  his  divided  affections ;  and 
with  Henry's  death  faded  also  the  star 
of  the  Princess  Elizabeth. 

Katharine  was  the  widow  of  a  king, 
and  doubtless  this  affectionate  husband 
had  appointed  his  young  and  cherished 
wife  as  regent  during  the  minority  of 
the  Prince  of  Wales.  Katharine  would 
accordingly  enjoy  five  years  of  rule,  au- 
thority, and  power.  Were  Katharine  his 
wife,  then  he,  Thomas  Seymour,  would 
share  this  power  with  her,  and  the  pur- 
ple robes  of  royalty  which  rested  upon 
her  shoulders  would  also  cover  him, 
and  he  would  help  her  to  bear  this 
crown,  which  doubtless  would  press 
heavy  on  her  brow  from  time  to  time. 
He  would  be  regent  in  reality,  and 
Katharine  would  be  so  in  name  only — 
she  the  Queen  of  England,  and  he  the 
king  of  this  queen.  What  a  proud,  in- 
toxicating thought  was  this,  and  what 
plans,  what  hopes  were  associated  there- 
with 1  Five  years  of  uncontrolled  sway 
— was  not  this  period  long  enough  to 
undermine  the  throne  of  this  royal  youth, 
19 


and  to  subvert  his  authority  ?  Who 
could  guess  whether  the  people,  once 
accustomed  to  the  regency  of  the  queen, 
would  not  prefer  remaining  under  her 
sceptre,  rather  than  confide  themselves 
to  a  feeble  boy  ?  The  people  must  be 
induced  so  to  think,  and  to  make  of 
Katharine,  the  wife  of  Thomas  Sey- 
mour, their  ruler  and  queen. 

The  king  was  at  the  point  of  death, 
and  beyond  doubt  Katharine  was  regent 
—perhaps  one  day  would  become  the 
reigning  sovereign: 

The  Princess  Elizabeth  was  only  a 
poor  princesy,  virtually  excluded  from 
all  prospect  of  the  throne,  for  before 
her  came  Katharine  and  Edward,  and 
finally  Mary,  Elizabeth's  elder  sister. 
Elizabeth  had  therefore  no  hope  of  the 
crown,  while  Katharine,  who  stood  next 
to  it,  had  the  best  hopes  conceivable. 

These  considerations  occupied  the 
mind  of  Thomas  Seymour  as  he  pro- 
ceeded through  the  apartments  of  the 
queen,  and  when  he  entered  her  boudoir 
he  had  quite  convinced  himself  that  he 
loved  the  queen  alone,  and  that  it  was 
she  alone  whom  he  had  always  loved. 

Elizabeth  was  forgotten  and  despised. 
She  had  no  prospect  of  the  throne. 
Why,  therefore,  should  he  love  her  ? 

The  queen,  as  already  - stated,  com- 
manded him  to  shut  the  door  of  the 
boudoir  which  led  into  the  reception- 
room,  and  to  draw  the  hangings.  At 
the  same  moment  that  he  did  so,  the 
portUre  which  conducted  from  the  bou- 
doir into  the  queen's  bedroom,  also 
moved — perhaps  it  was  caused  by  the 
current  of  air  from  the  door  just  closed. 


290 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS  COURT. 


Neither  the  queen  nor  Thomas  Seymour, 
however,  paid  any  attention  to  the  inci- 
dent. They  were  hotli  too  much  occu- 
pied with  themselves ;  they  did  not  per- 
ceive how  the  curtain  waved  and  moved 
gently  again  and  again;  they  did  not 
notice  that  a  slight  opening  was  cau- 
tiously made  in  the  middle ;  neither  did 
they  ohserve  the  flashing  eyes  that 
glanced  forth  suddenly  through  the 
opening  in  the  curtain,  nor  suspect  that 
it  wafe  the  Princess  Elizabeth  who  had 
concealed  herself  behind  the  portiere, 
the  better  that  she  might  be  able  to  see 
and  hear  what  took  place  in  the  bou- 
doir. 

The  queen  had  risen  from  her  seat 
and  advanced  a  few  steps  toward  the 
earl.  As  she  now  stood  confronting 
him,  and  as  their  eyes  met,  she  felt  her 
courage  sink,  and  her  heart  ready  to 
break. 

She  cast  her  looks  on  the  ground,  in 
order  that  he  might  not  perceive  the 
tears  which  involuntarily  rose  to  her 
eyes.  With  a  subdued  greeting  she  pre- 
sented her  hand  to  him.  Thomas  Sey- 
mour pressed  it  violently  to  his  lips,  and 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  countenance 
with  a  glance  of  impassioned  tender- 
ness. She  was  obliged  to  collect  all  her 
strength,  in  order  that  her  heart  might 
not  betray  itself.  With  a  sudden  move- 
ment she  withdrew  her  hand  from  his, 
and  took  from  a  table  the  roll  of  parch- 
ment which  contained  the  new  act  of 
succession  lately  signed  by  the  king. 

"My  lord,"  she  said,  "I  have  sum- 

v,       moned  you  hither  that  I  may  have  the 

pleasure  of  conveying  to  you  a  certain 


commission.  I  beg  of  you,  therefore, 
to  be  good  enough  to  take  this  parch- 
ment and  carry  it  to  the  Princess  Eliza- 
beth. But  before  you  do  so,  I  will  make 
you  acquainted  with  its  contents.  This 
document  contains  a  new  act,  sanctioned 
by  the  king,  regarding  the  succession. 
By  virtue  of  this  law,  the  royal 
princesses  are  no  longer  compelled  to 
ally  themselves  to  a  sovereign  prince  as 
their  husband,  if  they  wish  to  preserve 
undiminished  their  hereditary  claims  to 
the  throne.  The  king  grants  the  prin- 
cesses the  right  of  following  their  own 
inclinations,  and  their  claims  to  the 
crown  are  in  no  wise  to  suffer,  even 
though  the  husband  whom  they  may 
choose  should  neither  be  a  prince  nor  a 
king.  That,  my  lord,  is  the  purport  of 
this  document,  which  you  are  to  convey 
to  the  princess,  and  doubtless  you  will 
thank  me  for  having  selected  you  as  the 
herald  of  this  grateful  intelligence.'1 

"  And  why  ?  "  he  asked,  with  aston- 
ishment. u  Why  does  your  majesty  be- 
lieve that  this  intelligence  should  afford 
me  special  satisfaction  ?  " 

She  collected  all  her  energies — she 
besought  her  own  heart  for  firmness  and 
self-control. 

"Because  the  princess  has  made  me 
the  confidante  of  her  love,  and  because 
I  therefore  know  the  tender  bond  which 
binds  you  to  her !  "  she  replied,  gently, 
and  she  felt  that  the  blood  had  fled  from 
her  cheeks. 

The  earl  looked  at  her  for  a  moment 
with  mute  astonishment,  and  then 
glanced  round  the  room  with  an  inquir- 
ing and  scrutinizing  gaze. 


THE  DENOUEMENT. 


291 


"  Then  we  are  watched  ?  "  he  asked, 
softly.  "  We  are  not  alone  ?  " 

"We  are  alone !"  replied  Katharine, 
aloud.  "  No  one  can  hear  us,  and  God 
alone  is  the  witness  of  our  conversation." 

Elizabeth,  who  stood  behind  the  cur- 
tain, felt  her  cheeks  burning  with  shame, 
and  she  began  to  repent  what  she  had 
done.  It  was  certainly  mean  and  un- 
worthy of  a  princess  to  listen,  but  she 
was  at  this  moment  but  a  young  maiden 
who  loved,  and  who  merely  wished  to 
observe  her  lover.  She  remained  ac- 
cordingly. She  laid  her  hand  upon  her 
anxiously-throbbing  heart,  and  mur- 
mured to  herself:  "What  will  he  say? 
What  means  this  anxiety  which  has 
come  upon  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Thomas  Seymour, 
in  quite  an  altered  tone,  "if  we  are 
alone,  I  may  let  fall  the  mask  which 
hides  my  features,  and  let  the  coat-of- 
mail  which  confines  my  heart  be  rent 
asunder.  And  now,  Katharine,  ray  day- 
star,  my  hope,  receive  my  greetings! 
No  one,  you  say,  hears  us  but  God 
alone,  and  God  knows  our  love,  and  He 
knows  with  what  ardent  longing,  and 
with  what  rapture,  I  have  looked  for- 
ward to  the  present  hour.  Oh,  Katha- 
rine! it  seems  an  eternity  since  I  saw 
you ;  my  heart  is  athirst  for  you  like 
one  that  is  famished.  But  blessings  at- 
tend thee,  my  beloved  Katharine,  that 
thou  hast  at  length  summoned  me 
hither !  " 

He  held  out  his  arms  to  embrace  her, 
but  she  recoiled,  and  repelled  his  ad- 
vances with  energy. 

"You  mistake  the  name,  my  lord," 


she  replied,  sarcastically,  "  you  say  Kath- 
arine, and  you  mean  Elizabeth!  It  is 
the  princess  whom  you  love.  Elizabeth 
is  the  idol  of  your  affections,  and  she 
has  consecrated  her  heart  to  you.  Oh, 
my  lord !  I  shall  be  quite  prepared  to 
favor  this  love,  and  be  assured  I  shall 
not  cease  my  prayers  and  entreaties 
until  I  have  inclined  the  king  to  your 
wishes,  and  obtained  his  consent  to  your 
marriage  with  the  Princess  Elizabeth.51 

Thomas  Seymour  laughed. 

"  Come,  Katharine,  this  is  really  a 
masquerade,  and  you  still  continue  to 
wear  a  mask  over  that  beautiful  and 
charming  face  of  yours.  Away  with 
this  mask,  then !  I  wish  to  see  you  as 
you  are.  I  wish  once  more  to  see  your 
own  amiable  self.  I  wish  to  see  the 
woman  who  belongs  to  me,  who  has 
sworn  to  be  mine,  and  who  has  vowed 
with  a  thousand  sacred  promises  to  love 
me,  to  be  constant  to  me,  and  devote  her 
life  to  me  as  her  lord  and  husband  !  Or, 
how,  Katharine,  could  you  have  forgot- 
ten your  vows — could  you  have  be- 
come unfaithful  to  your  own  heart  ?  Do 
you  wish  to  cast  me  off,  and  like  a  play- 
thing of  which  you  have  yourself  be- 
come weary,  to  fling  me  aside  to 
another  ? " 

"  For  my  part,"  she  replied,  quite  un- 
consciously,— "  for  my  part,  I  can  never 
forget  and  never  become  faithless!  " 

"Well,  then,  my  Katharine,  thou 
bride  and  wife  of  my  future  days,  why 
do  you  speak  to  me  of  Elizabeth — of 
this  little  princess,  who  yearns  for  love 
as  the  rosebud  yearns  for  the  sun,  and 
who  mistakes  the  first  person  she 


292 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


meets  on  her  way,  for  the  sun  itself,  for 
which  she  sighs?  Why  trouble  our- 
selves with  Elizabeth,  my  Katharine,  and 
what  have  we  to  do  with  this  child  at  this 
longed- wished-for  hour  of  meeting? " 

"  Oh,  he  calls  me  a  child !  "  mur- 
mured Elizabeth.  "  I  am  nothing  but  a 
child  to  him !  "  and  she  pressed  her 
hands  firmly  on  her  lips,  in  order  to 
check  the  cry  of  pain  and  anger  which 
struggled  for  utterance. 

Thomas  Seymour  folded  Katharine  in 
his  arms  with  irresistible  force.  "  "With- 
draw thyself  from  me  no  longer,"  he 
cried,  with  tender  entreaty  ;  "  the  hour 
has  at  length  arrived  which  must  decide 
upon  our  whole  existence.  The  king  is 
dying,  and  my  Katharine  will  at  length 
be  free — free  to  follow  the  impulse  of 
her  heart.  Call  to  mind  at  this  hour 
the  vows  which  thou  hast  plighted ! 
Dost  thou  still  remember  that  day  on 
which  thou  didst  indicate  to  me  this 
present  hour — when  thou  didst  engage 
to  be  my  wife,  and  didst  accept  me  for 
thy  future  lord?  Oh,  my  belove^,  the 
crown  which  then  weighed  so  heavily 
on  thy  brow  is,  at  length,  about  to  be 
removed.  I  now  once  more  stand  be- 
fore thee  as  thy  subject,  but  in  a  few 
hours  it  will  be  thy  lord  and  husband 
who  will  stand  before  thee,  and  he  will 
ask  thee:  'Katharine,  my  bride,  hast 
thou  been  constant  and  faithful  to  me, 
as  thou  hast  sworn  to  be  ?  Hast  thou 
been  true  to  thy  vows  and  to  thy  love  ? 
Hast  thou  preserved  from  every  stain 
my  honor,  which  is  also  thy  own  honor, 
and  canst  thou  look  me  in  the  face  with 
the  eyes  of  innocence  ? ' " 


For  a  moment  he  gazed  at  her  with 
haughty  and  flashing  eyes,  and  before 
his  commanding  glance  her  strength  and 
her  pride  melted  away  like  ice  before  the 
noontide  sun.  He  was  once  more  the 
master  of  her  heart,  and  she  once  more 
the  meek  and  submissive  woman,  whose 
sweetest  happiness  it  is  to  yield  and 
bend  to  the  will  of  her  beloved. 

"  I  can  freely  meet  your  gaze,"  she 
murmured,  "  and  no  guilt  oppresses  my 
conscience.  I  have  loved  but  thee 
alone,  and  besides  thee  none  reigned  in 
my  heart  but  God." 

In  an  ecstasy  of  happiness,  and  quite 
overpowered  with  emotion,  she  leaned 
her  head  on  his  shoulder,  and,  as  he 
folded  her  in  his  arms,  and  covered  her 
no  longer  resisting  lips  with  kisses, 
then,  indeed,  she  felt  how  unspeakably 
she  loved  him ;  and  that  her  future 
happiness  was  indissolubly  bound  up 
with  his. 

It  was  a  sweet  dream — a  moment  of 
blissful  rapture.  But  it  was  only  a  mo- 
ment. A  hand  was  laid  impetuously 
upon  her  shoulder ;  a  hoarse  and  angry 
voice  called  her  by  name ;  and  as  Kath- 
arine looked  up,  she  encountered  the 
fierce  looks  of  Elizabeth,  who,  with 
cheeks  of  deadly  paleness,  with  trem- 
bling lips,  and  with  distended  nostrils, 
stood  before  her,  and  from  whose  eyes 
skot  forth  flames  of  animosity  and  rage. 

"  This  then  is  the  service  of  affection 
which  you  promised  to  render  me  ?  "  she 
exclaimed,  gnashing  her  teeth.  "You 
creep  stealthily  into  my  confidence,  and 
witji  mocking  laughter  upon  your  lips 
you  spy  out  the  secrets  of  my  heart,  and 


THE  DENOUEMENT. 


293 


then  go  away  to  betray  them  to  your 
paramour,  and  in  his  arms  to  heap  ridi- 
cule upon  a  hapless  maiden,  who  iii  an 
unguarded  moment  suffered  her  heart 
to  betray  her,  and  mistook  a  guilty 
malefactor  for  an  honorable  man.  Woe, 
woe  betide  you,  Katharine,  for  I  tell  you 
I  shall  have  no  pity  for  an  adulteress  who 
lias  mocked  me,  and  deceived  the  king, 
my  father !  " 

She  raved — she  was  beside  herself 
with  rage ;  she  dashed  away  the  hand 
which  Katharine  laid  upon  her  shoulder, 
and,  like  an  infuriated  tigress,  she  re- 
coiled from  the  touch  of  her  adversary. 

The  blood  of  her  father  boiled  and 
foamed  in  her  veins,  and,  like  a  true 
daughter  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  she  har- 
bored in  her  breast  naught  but  blood- 
thirsty and  revengeful  thoughts. 

She  cast  at  Thomas  Seymour  a  look  of 
direful  anger,  and  a  smile  of  contempt 
played  around  her  lips. 

"My  lord,"  she  said,  "you  called  me 
a  cbild,  who  suffers  herself  to  be  easily 
deceived  because  she  so  ardently  longs 
for  the  sun  and  for  happiness.  You  are 
right;  I  was  a  child,  for!  was  foolish 
enough  to  take  a  pitiful  liar  for  a  no- 
bleman, whom  I  deemed  worthy  of  the 
proud  fortune  of  being  loved  by  the 
daughter  of  a  king!  Yes,  you  are 
right,  that  was  a  childish  dream.  Thanks 
to  you,  T  have  now  woke  up  from  this 
wretched  delusion,  and  you  have  ma- 
tured the  child  into  the  woman,  who 
laughs  at  her  youthful  folly,  and  to-day 
despises  what  she  yesterday  wor- 
shipped. With  you,  however,  I  have 
nothing  more  to  do ;  you  are  too  mean 


and  contemptible  for  my  anger.  But 
I  tell  you  that  you  have  played  a 
dangerous  game,  and  that  you  will  lose 
it.  You  wooed  a  queen  and  a  princess 
at  the  same  time,  but  you  will  not 
secure  them  both, — the  latter,  because 
she  despises  you,  and  the  former,  be- 
cause she  will  speedily  mount  the  scaf- 
fold!" 

With  a  wild  burst  of  laughter  she 
rushed  toward  the  door,  but  Katharine 
restrained  her  with  a  firm  hand,  and 
compelled  her  to  remain. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?  "she 
asked,  quite  cairn  and  composed. 

"  What  am  I  going  to  do  ? "  echoed 
Elizabeth,  and  her  eyes  flashed  with 
wild  rage.  "You  ask  me  what  I  am 
going  to  do.  I  am  going  to  my  father, 
the  king,  to  tell  him  what  I  have  here 
witnessed !  He  will  listen  to  me,  and 
his  tongue  will  have  strength  enough 
left  to  pronounce  for  you  a  sentence  of 
death  !  Ah !  my  mother  died  upon  the 
scaffold,  and  yet  she  was  innocent.  We 
shall  now  see  if  you  will  escape  the  same 
fate— you  who  are  guilty!  " 

"Be  it  so — go  to  your  father,"  said 
Katharine  ;  "go  and  accuse  me.  But  be- 
fore you  do  so  you  shall  hear  me.  I  was 
willing  to  renounce  this  man,  whom  I 
loved,  in  order  to  give  him  to  you.  By 
the  avowal  of  your  love  you  had  de- 
stroyed my  happiness  and  my  future 
hopes;  but  I  was  not  angry  with  you  ;  I 
understood  your  affection,  for  Thomas 
Seymour  is  worthy  of  being  loved.  But 
you  are  right — for  the  wife  of  a  king  it 
was  sinful  to  cherish  this  love,  however 
innocent  and  pure  it  might  be.  I  was 


294: 


HENRY   VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


therefore  willing  to  renounce  it  in  your 
favor,  and  I  resolved,  upon  your  first 
avowal,  to  sacrifice  myself  in  silence. 
You  have  now  rendered  that  impossible. 
Go,  therefore,  and  accuse  us  to  your 
father,  and  do  not  fear  that  I  shall  dis- 
own my  affection.  Now  that  the  deci- 
sive moment  has  come,  it  shall  find  me 
prepared,  and  even  upon  the  scaffold  I 
shall  still  rejoice,  for  Thomas  Seymour 
loves  me !  " 

"Yes,  he  loves  you!  Katharine," 
he  exclaimed,  quite  overpowered  and 
enraptured  by  her  noble  and  majestic 
demeanor.  "  He  loves  you  so  fervently 
and  devotedly,  that  death  with  you 
seems  to  him  an  enviable  fate,  which  he 
would  exchange  for  no  crown — no 
throne  upon  earth." 

And  while  he  thus  spoke  he  put 
his  arms  round  Katharine's  neck,  and 
pressed  her  ardently  to  his  heart. 

Elizabeth  uttered  a  wild  shriek,  and 
sprang  toward  the  door.  But  what 
sound  of  uproar  was  that  which  was 
suddenly  heard  approaching,  and  which 
moved  along  like  a  tumultuous  wave, 
and  filled  the  anteroom  and  the  saloons  ? 
What  meant  those  screams  and  shouts 
of  terror-stricken  voices,  calling  for  the 
queen,  the  physician,  and  the  priest  ? 

Elizabeth  stopped  in  her  course,  and 
listened.  Thomas  Seymour  and  Kath- 
arine, locked  in  each  other's  arms,  stood 
beside  her;  they  scarcely  heard  what 
was  going  on ;  they  gazed  at  each  other, 
and  smiled  and  dreamed  of  love  and 
death,  and  of  the  eternity  of  their  happi- 
v.  ness. 

The  door  flew  open;  there  was  the 


pale  face  of  John  Hey  wood,  there  were 
the  ladies  of  honor,  and  the  court  offi- 
cials, all  shouting  and  lamenting  : 

"  The  king  is  dying ;  he  has  had  a 
sudden  attack  !  The  king  is  expiring !  " 

"  The  king  calls  you  1  the  king  wishes 
to  die  in  the  arms  of  his  wife !  "  said 
John  Hey  wood,  and  while  he  pushed 
Elizabeth,  who  was  pressing  forward 
eagerly  aside  from  the  door,  he  added, 
— "  the  king  will  see  no  one  else  but  his 
wife  and  the  priest,  and  he  has  com- 
manded me  to  call  the  queen.1' 

He  opened  the  door,  and  through  the 
ranks  of  the  weeping  and  lamenting 
courtiers  and  servants  Katharine  rushed 
along  to  the  dying  bed  of  her  royal  hus- 
band. 


CHAPTEE  XII. 


LE   EOI   EST  MOET,    VIVE   LA   EEINE. 

KING  HENEY  was  expiring.  This  life 
of  sin,  of  bloodshed  and  crime,  of 
treachery  and  deceit,  of  hypocrisy  and 
cruelty,  of  fanaticism  and  ferocity,  was 
at  length  drawing  to  a  close ;  the  hand 
which  had  signed  so  many  death-war- 
rants, was  now  clinched  in  the  throes  of 
death — benumbed  at  the  very  moment 
that  the  king  was  about  to  sign  the 
death-warrant  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk. 
And  the  king  died  with  the  gnawing 
consciousness  that  he  was  unable  to  de- 
stroy this  enemy,  whom  he  hated ;  the 
once  mighty  king  was  now  but. a  feeble 
and  dying  old  man,  who  was  no  longer 
able  to  hold  the  pen  to  sign  this  decree 


LE  ROI  EST   MORT,   VIVE   LA  REINE. 


295 


— his  last,  his  most  cherished  wish.  God, 
in  His  wisdom,  had  imposed  upon  him 
the  severest  and  the  most  terrible  punish- 
ment— he  had  paralyzed  not  his  mind,  but 
his  body ;  and  this  rigid,  unwieldy,  and 
torpid  mass,  which  lay  there  upon  the  pur- 
ple-and-gold-bedecked  couch,  was — the 
king — a  king  whom  remorse  of  conscience 
would  not  suffer  to  die,  and  who  now 
trembled  and  shuddered  at  death,  to 
which  he  had  dispatched  so  many  of  his 
subjects  with  such  relentless  cruelty. 

Katharine  and  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  the  noble  Cranmer,  stood 
by  his  bedside;  and  while  he  held 
Katharine's  hand  with  a  grasp  of  con- 
vulsive agony,  he  listened  to  the  devout 
supplications  which  Cranmer  pronounced 
in  his  behalf. 

Once  he  asked  with  faltering  tongue: 
"What  manner  of  world  is  this,  my 
lord,  where  those  who  sentence  others 
to  death  are  themselves  condemned  to 
die?"  And  when  the  pious  Cranmer 
— touched  by  the  agony,  and  by  the  re- 
morse which  he  read  in  the  king's  looks, 
and  filled  with  compassion  for  the  dyi^g 
tyrant,  sought  to  comfort  him,  and  spoke 
to  him  of  the  mercies  of  God — the  king 
replied  with  a  groan:  <;No,  no!  there 
is  no  mercy  for  him  who  himself  showed 
no  mercy." 

At  length  this  fearful  struggle  of 
•loath  with  life  was  over,  and  death  had 
gained  the  victory.  The  king  had 
closed  his  eyes  upon  earth,  in  order  to 
open  them  once  more,  as  a  guilt-laden 
sinner  before  the  throne  of  the  Eternal. 

For  three  days  Ms  death  was  kept  se- 
cret, in  order  that  every  thing  might  be 


arranged,  and  that  the  gap  which  his 
death  had  caused  might  first  be  filled  up. 
These  measures  were  adopted  with  a 
view  that  when  the  people  should  be 
informed  of  the  death  of  the  deceased 
monarch,  they  might  at  the  same  time 
took  upon  the  living  king ;  and  as  it  was 
well  known  that  the  people  would  not 
weep  for  the  dead,  so  they  might  at 
least  hail  the  living  sovereign  with  joy- 
ful acclamations.  Though  no  psalms  of 
lamentation  would  be  chanted,  yet 
hymns  of  rejoicing  might  be  sung. 

On  the  third  day  the  gates  of  White- 
hall were  opened,  and  a  gloomy  mourn- 
ing-procession moved  along  through  the 
streets  of  London.  Silent  and  sullen 
stood  the  populace  to  gaze  upon  the 
coffin  of  the  king  as  it  passed  by ;  that 
king  before  whom  they  had  once  trem- 
bled, but  for  whom  no  word  of  sorrow 
or  regret  now  escaped  them;  not  a 
tear  did  they  shed  for  the  dead  mon- 
arch who  for  thirty-seven  years  had 
been  their  king. 

The  coffin  was  conducted  to  We-t- 
minster  Abbey  to  be  laid  in  the  costly 
tomb  which  Wolsey  had  caused  to  bo 
erected  there  for  bis  royal  master.  But 
the  way  was  long,  and  the  mourning- 
clad  horses  attached  to  the  hearse  wero 
forced  from  time  to  time  to  rest  on  their 
journey  to  fetch  breath.  And,  suddenly, 
as  the  vehicle  pulled  up  in  one  of  the 
public  thoroughfares,  blood  was  seen  to 
from  the  coffin  of  the  king.  It 
flowed  forth  in  purple  rills,  and  trickled 
down  upon  the  stones  in  the  streets. 
The  spectators  crowding  around  shud- 
dered as  they  saw  the  Wood  of  the  king 


296 


HENRY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


streaming  forth;  and  they  remarked 
how  nmch  blood  he  had  caused  to  be 
shed  on  the  same  spot — for  the  coffin 
stopped  at  the  very  place  formerly  set 
apart  for  executions,  and  where  fires 
had  been  kindled,  and  scaffolds  had 
been  erected,  for  hundreds  of  hapless 
victims. 

As  the  people  stood  and  beheld  the 
blood  that  flowed  from  the  coffin  of  the 
king,  two  dogs  sprang  forth  from  among 
the  crowd,  and  with  panting  tongues 
licked  the  blood  of  King  Henry  the 
Eighth.  The  spectators,  however,  hor- 
ror-stricken and  dismayed,  turned  from 
the  revolting  spectacle,  and  recounted  to 
each  other  the  fate  of  the  unhappy 
priest  who  only  a  few  weeks  before  was 
executed  upon  this  very  spot,  for  having 
refused  to  acknowledge  the  king  as  the 
head  of  his  Church,  and  the  vicegerent 
of  the  Almighty  ;  they  related  how  this 
ill-fated  man  cursed  the  king,  and  said 
upon  the  scaffold :  "  May  the  dogs  one 
day  lap  the  blood  of  this  king  who  has 
shed  so  much  innocent  blood  himself!  " — 
and  now  the  curse  of  the  dying  man 
was  fulfilled,  and  the  dogs  had  licked 
the  blood  of  the  king. 

When  the  gloomy  mourning  train 
had  left  the  palace  of  Whitehall,  and  as 
the  dead  body  of  the  king  no  longer  in- 
fested the  saloons  with  the  pestiferous 
odors  of  corruption,  and  the.  court  was 
preparing  to  do  homage  to  the  boy  Ed- 
ward, as  the  new  king,  Thomas  Sey- 
mour, Earl  of  Sudley,  entered  the 
apartment  of  the  royal  and  youthful 
widow ;  he  came  in  solemn  mourning 
attire,  and  his  elder  brother,  Edward 


Seymour,  and  Oranmer,  the  Archbishop 
of  Canterbury,  accompanied  him. 

Katharine,  blushing,  greeted  them 
with  a  sweet  smile. 

"  I  come,  this  day,  your  majesty," 
said  Thomas  Seymour,  solemnly,  "  to  re- 
mind you  of  your  vows!  Do  not,  I 
pray  you,  blush — nor  cast  down  your 
eyes  for  shame.  The  worthy  arch- 
bishop knows  your  heart,  and  he  knows 
that  it  is  as  pure  as  the  heart  of  a  virgin, 
and  that  no  unchaste  thought  has  ever 
stained  your  soul ;  and,  moreover,  my 
brother  would  not  be  here  if  he  had 
not  entire  faith  in  and  respect  for  a 
love,  which  through  storm  and  danger 
has  been  so  intrepidly  preserved.  I 
have  chosen  these  two  noble  friends  to 
be  the  witnesses  of  my  espousal,  and  in 
their  presence  I  will  ask  you — Queen 
Katharine,  the  king  is  dead,  and  no  fet- 
ters any  longer  bind  your  heart;  will 
you  now  bestow  it  upon  me  to  be  mine  ? 
Will  you  accept  me  as  your  husband,  and 
sacrifice  to  me  your  royal  title  and  your 
elevated  rank  ? " 

With  a  bewitching  smile  she  presented 
to  him  her  hand.  "You  know  well," 
she  whispered,  "  that  I  sacrifice  nothing 
to  you,  but  that  I  receive  every  thing 
that  I  hope  for  of  love  and  happiness." 

"  Then  in  the  presence  of  both  these 
friends  you  will  accept  me  as  your  future 
husband,  and  pledge  to  me  the  vows  of 
your  faithfulness  and  love  ?  " 

Katharine  trembled  and  cast  her  eyes 
to  the  ground  with  the  bashfulness  of  a 
young  maiden.  "  Alas  !  "  she  sighed, 
"do  I  not  still  wear  the  weeds  of  mourn- 
ing? Is  it,  then,  becoming  in  me  to 


LE  ROI  EST  MORT,   VIVE  LA  REINE. 


297 


think  of  happiness  when  the  funeral 
bells  have  scarcely  ceased  to  toll  ? " 

"  Queen  Katharine,"  said  Archbishop 
Cranmer,  "  let  the  dead  bury  their  dead ! 
Life,  too,  has  its  rights,  and  man  should 
not  give  up  his  claim  to  happiness,  for 
it  is  a  sacred  possession.  You  have 
borne  and  suffered  much,  queen,  but 
your  heart  remained  pure  and  blame- 
less, and  for  this  reason  you  should 
greet  happiness  at  the  present  moment 
with  a  serene  conscience.  Linger  not, 
therefore.  In  the  name  of  God,  I  am 
come  to  bless  your  love  and  to  conse- 
crate your  happiness." 

"And  I,"  said  Edward  Seymour, 
"have  requested  my  brother  that  I 
might  have  the  honor  to  accompany 
him,  in  order  to  assure  your  majesty  that 
I  am  fully  sensitive  of  the  high  honor 
which  you  manifest  toward  our  family, 
and  that  as  your  brother-in-law  I  shall 
always  be  mindful  that  you  were  once 
my  honored  queen,  and  I  your  devoted 
subject." 

"  And  I,  for  my  part,"  cried  Thomas 
Seymour,  "  would  not  delay  coming  to 
you.  in  order  to  testify  to  you  that  love 
alone  conducted  me,  and  that  no  other 
consideration  had  any.  influence  in  guid- 
ing my  decision.  As  yet  the  king's  last 
will  has  not  been  opened,  and  I  am  in- 
nocent of  its  contents.  But  in  what 
way  soever  its  provisions  may  affect  us 
all,  it  will  neither  be  able  to  increase  nor 
diminish  my  happiness  in  the  possession 
of  so  great  a  treasure.  Whatever  may 
bo  your  position,  you  shall  always  be 
for  me  an  adored  wife — a  fondly-loved 
spouse ;  and  it  is  only  to  confirm  to  you 


the  assurance  of  this,  that  I  have  already 
presented  myself  this  day." 

With  a  smile  of  winning  sweetness 
Katharine  presented  her  hand.  "  I 
have  never  doubted  you,  my  Seymour,'' 
she  whispered,  "and  never  did  I  love 
you  more  than  at  the  moment  when  I 
was  about  to  renounce  you." 

She  bent  her  head  on  the  shoulder  of 
her  lover,  and  tears  of  pure  joy  bedewed 
her  cheeks.  The  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury united  their  hands  together  and 
confirmed  their  betrothal;  and  the 
elder  Seymour,  the  Earl  of  Hertford, 
greeted  them  as  an  affianced  pair. 

On  the  same  day  the  will  of  the  king 
was  opened ;  in  the  large  gilded  saloon, 
in  which  had  so  often  resounded  the 
mirthful  laughter  and  the  thundering 
voice  of  King  Henry,  were  now  read 
his  last  commands.  The  whole  court 
was  here  assembled  as  in  former  times, 
amidst  gay  banquets  and  festive  scenes, 
and  Katharine  sat  once  more  upon  the 
royal  throne  ;  but  no  longer  by  her  side 
was  the  dreaded  tyrant,  the  bloodthirsty 
King  Henry  the  Eighth,  but  only  the 
poor,  pale  boy  Edward,  who  had  inher- 
ited neither  his  father's  mind  nor  his 
energy,  but  only  his  sanguinary  propen- 
sities and  his  arts  of  pietistic  dissimula- 
tion. Near  him  stood  his  sisters,  the 
Princesses  Mary  and  Elizabeth — both 
with  pale  and  sorrowful  countenance: 
but  it  was  not  their  father  whom  they 
lamented. 

Mary,  the  bigoted  Catholic,  saw  with 
terror  and  bitter  pain  the  day  of  afflic- 
tion dawning  upon  her  religion;  for 
Edward  was  a  fanatical  adversary  of  the 


298 


HENKY  VIII.   AND   HIS   COURT. 


old  faith,  and  she  knew  that  he  would 
shed  the  hlood  of  the  papists  with  unre- 
lenting cruelty :  for  this  it  was  that  she 
mourned. 

But  as  for  Elizabeth — the  youthful 
maiden  with  the  glowing  heart — she 
thought  neither  of  her  father,  nor  of  the 
calamities  which  threatened  the  Church ; 
— she  thought  only  of  her  love;  she 
only  felt  that  she  had  been  robbed  of  a 
hope — of  an  illusion  ;  that  she  had  been 
roused  from  a  sweet  and  delightful 
dream  to  vain  but  stern  realities.  She  had 
given  up  her  first  love,  but  her  heart 
bled,  and  the  wound  still  pained  her. 

The  will  was  read.  Elizabeth  looked 
across  at  Thomas  Seymour  during  this 
solemn  and  significant  recital.  She 
wished  to  read  upon  his  brow  the  im- 
pression which  those  grave  and  mo- 
mentous words  made  upon  him;  she 
wished  to  penetrate  into  the  depths  of 
his  soul,  and  to  probe  the  secret  thoughts 
of  his  heart.  She  saw  how  he  grew 
pale,  when,  not  Katharine,  but  his  own 
brother,  the  Earl  of  Hertford,  was 
named  regent  during  Edward's  minority. 
She  saw  the  gloomy  and  almost  angry 
look  which  he  cast  at  the  queen,  and 
with  a  malicious  smile  she  murmured: 
"I  am  revenged!  He  loves  her  no 
longer !  " 

John  Heywood,  too,  who  stood  near 
the  queen's  throne,  had  perceived  this 
look  of  Thomas  Seymour,  not  as  Eliza- 
beth had,  with  an  exultant,  but  with  a 
grieving  heart,  and  he  hung  his  head 
and  murmured :  "  Poor  Katharine  !  He 
will  hate  her,  and  she  will  be  very  un- 
happy." 


But  as  yet  she  was  happy.  Her  eyes 
beamed  with  delight  when  she  learned 
that  her  beloved,  by  virtue  of  the  royal 
will,  was  appointed  High-Admiral  of 
England,  and  guardian  of  the  young 
king.  She  thought  not  of  herself  but 
of  her  beloved,  and  it  filled  her  with  the 
proudest  satisfaction  to  see  him  invested 
with  such  high  honors  and  dignities. 

Hapless  Katharine!  Her"  eye  per- 
ceived not  the  murky  cloud  which  hung 
over  the  brow  of  her  beloved.  She  was 
so  happy,  so  unsuspecting,  and  so  unam- 
bitious! For  her  there  was  but  one 
happiness — that  of  being  the  wife  of 
Thomas  Seymour. 

And  this  happiness  was  to  be  hers. 
Thirty  days  after  the  death  of  the  king, 
she  became  the  wife  of  Thomas  Sey- 
mour, Earl  of  Sudley,  the  High-Admiral 
of  England.  Archbishop  Cranmer 
blessed  their  nuptials  in  the  chapel  of 
Whitehall,  and  the  lord  protector,  now 
Duke  of  Somerset,  brother  of  Thomas 
Seymour,  and  formerly  Earl  of  Hert- 
ford, was  the  witness  of  their  union, 
which  was  still  treated  as  a  secret,  and 
of  which  there  were  no  other  witnesses. 
Meanwhile,  as  the  party  entered  the 
chapel,  the  Princess  Elizabeth  advanced 
toward  the  queen  and  offered  her  hand. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  they  had 
met  since  that  fearful  day  on  which  they 
stood  opposed  to  each  other  as  rivals 
and  enemies ;  it  was  the  first  time  that 
they  had  seen  each  other  face  to  face. 

Elizabeth  had  struggled  with  her 
heart  for  this  sacrifice ;  her  proud  spirit 
revolted  at  the  thought  that  Thomas 
Seymour  might  suppose  she  still  re- 


LE   ROI  EST   MORT,   VIVE   LA  REINE. 


299 


gretted  him — that  she  still  loved  him. 
She  wished  to  show  him  that  her  heart 
had  quite  recovered  from  this  first  dream 
of  her  youth,  and  that  she  no  longer 
felt  pain  or  regret. 

She  greeted  him  with  a  cold  and 
haughty  smile,  and  presented  her  hand 
to  Katharine. 

"  Queen,"  she  said,  "  you  have  so  long 
been  to  me  a  faithful  and  kind  mother, 
that  I  may  once  more  venture  to  claim 
the  right  of  being  your  daughter.  Al- 
low me,  therefore,  as  your  daughter,  to 
be  present  at  the  solemn  ceremony 
which  is  about  to  take  place,  and  permit 
me  to  stand  at  your  side  and  to  pray 
for  you,  while  the  archbishop  performs 
the  sacred  ceremony  which  shall  make 
the  queen  a  Countess  of  Sudley.  May 
God  bless  you,  Katharine,  and  bestow 
upon  you  all  the  happiness  that  you  de- 
serve ! " 

And  the  Princess  Elizabeth  knelt  at 
Katharine's  side  as  the  archbishop  con- 
secrated her  marriage  vows  ;  and  while 
she  prayed,  her  eye  glauced  across  to 
Thomas  Seymour,  who  stood  beyond,  at 
the  side  of  his  young  wife.  Katharine's 
countenance  beamed  with  beauty  and 
happiness,  but  upon  Thomas  Seymour's 
brow  still  rested  the  cloud  which  had 
settled  upon  it  on  the  day  on  whicli  the 
king'.s  will  was  read — this  will  which, 
contrary  to  his  expectations,  did  not 
make  Katharine  regent,  and  thereby  de- 
stroyed the  proud  and  ambitious  designs 
of  Thomas  Seymour. 

And  this  cloud  still  hung  over  his 
brow.  It  descended  still  lower  and 
lower;  it  soon  overshadowed  Katha- 


rine's wedded  life,  and  woke  her  from 
her  brief  dream  of  bliss. 

What  she  suffered — what  secret  an- 
guish and  silent  woe  she  endured,  who 
can  tell — who  can  discover?  Katha- 
rine had  a  proud  and  reserved  spirit ; 
she  veiled  her  pains  and  her  sorrows 
modestly  from  the  world,  as  she  had 
once  concealed  her  love.  Nobody  sus- 
pected what  she  suffered,  or  how  she 
struggled  with  her  crushed  affections. 

She  never  complained.  She  saw  the 
blossoms  of  her  life  wither  and  decay — 
she  saw  the  smile  vanish  from  the  lips  of 
her  husband — she  heard  his  once  tender 
and  affectionate  voice  growing  harsh  by 
degrees — she  felt  his  heart  growing 
colder  and  colder,  and  his  love  changing 
to  indifference,  perhaps  into  positive  dis- 
like. 

To  her  love  she  had  devoted  her 
whole  heart,  but  she  felt,  day  by  day 
and  hour  by  hour,  that  the  heart  of  her 
husband  grew  colder.  She  felt  it  with 
terrible,  with  heart-rending  certainty. 
She  was  his  with  all  her  love ;  but  he 
was  no  longer  hers. 

And  she  tormented  her  heart  in  order 
to  discover  why  he  no  longer  loved  her ; 
wherein  she  had  offended,  that  he  had 
turned  aside  from  her.  Seymour  had 
not  the  delicacy  nor  the  magnanimity  to 
disclose  to  her  his  mind  ;  and  at  length 
she  understood  why  he  had  turned 
away. 

He  had  hoped  that  Katharine  would 
be  the  Regent  of  England,  and  that  he 
would  accordingly  be  the  husband  of  the 
regent.  Because  she  had  not  become  so, 
his  love  had  vanished. 


300 


HENRY  VIII.   AND  HIS  COURT. 


Katharine  felt  this,  and  it  caused  her 
death. 

But  not  suddenly — death  did  not  at 
once  release  her  from  her  pains  and  her 
anguish.  For  six  months  she  suffered 
and  endured  her  woes.  At  the  end  of 
six  months  she  died. 

Dismal  rumors  were  spread  about  re- 
specting her  death,  and  never  did  John 
Heywood  pass  by  Lord  Sudley  without 
looking  at  him  with  a  stern,  angry 
glance,  and  saying : 

"You  have  murdered  the  beautiful 
queen  1  Deny  it  if  you  can." 

Thomas  Seymour  laughed,  and  did 
not  consider  it  worth  the  trouble  to  de- 
fend himself  against  the  accusations  of 
the  court  fool.  He  laughed,  although  he 
had  not  laid  aside  his  mourning  attire 
for  Katharine. 

And  still  in  this  garb  he  had  the 
hardihood  to  present  himself  before  the 
Princess  Elizabeth,  and  to  make  to  her 
protestations  of  ardent  love,  and  sue  for 
her  hand. 

But  Elizabeth  rejected  him- with  proud 
contempt  and  cold  disdain,  and,  like 
John  Heywood,  the  stern  princess  re- 
plied : 

"You  have  murdered  Katharine;  I 
will  not  be  the  wife  of  a  murderer !  " 

And  soon  the  justice  of  God  punished 
the  murderer  of  the  noble  and  innocent 
Katharine,  for  scarce  three  months  after 


the  death  of  his  wife,  the  high-admiral 
was  compelled  to  mount  the  scaffold, 
and  was  executed  as  a  traitor. 

By  Katharine's  wish,  her  books  am: 
papers  were  given  to  her  faithful  friend. 
John  Heywood,  who  applied  himself  with 
the  most  devoted  diligence  to  the  exam- 
ination of  them.  Among  those  papers 
he  found  many  pages  written  with  her 
own  hand— many  verses  and  poems, 
which  breathed  the  weariness  and  the 
sadness  of  her  spirit.  With  her  own 
hand  Katharine  had  collected  these  fugi- 
tive pieces,  and  with  her  own  hand  she 
had  written  upon  this  book  the  title, 
44  The  Sighings  of  a  Sinner" 

Katharine  had  wept  much  while  pen- 
ning these  4' Sighings,"  for  in  many 
places  the  manuscript  was  illegible — her 
tears  had  effaced  the  characters. 

John  Heywood  kissed  those  spots 
where  the  traces  of  her  tears  had 
remained,  and  murmured  : 

44  The  sinner  by  her  sorrows  has  pro- 
claimed herself  a  saint,  and  these  poems 
are  the  cross  and  memento  which  she 
herself  prepared  for  her  own  grave. 
I  will  set  up  this  cross,  that  the  good 
may  derive  consolation,  and  that  the 
wicked  may  flee  when  they  see  it." 

And  he  did  so.  He  caused  the 
44  Sighings  of  a  Sinner  "  to  be  printed, 
and  this  book  was  Katharine's  worthiest 
memento.  •*  v6 


THE      END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 


This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 
on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 

12May'6tftR 

REC'D  LD 

MAYS    1961 

LD  21  A-50m-12  '  60                           UntaSSyof  ciifornia 
(B6221slO)476B                                             Berkeley 

I  U    U  I 


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